#but for some reason everyone wants to parent him

[kiwriteswords]

oh oh i have a fluff v day request! maybe reader is jacks teacher and they have a class valentine’s day party, when hotch picks him up after school, jack is trying to set them up by planting one of those silly cartoon cards in either of their pockets 🤭

Matchmaker, Matchmaker, Make Me a Match [Aaron Hotchner x Teacher!Reader]

Ki2k Masterlist||MainMasterlist (not updated, sorry!)|| Ao3||Word Count: 1k|| AN: Happy Valentine's Day! Thank you for this request, lovely! I had so much fun writing it--I never usually write Jack-related fics, but when I do, I wonder why I don't more often because they're so sweet! ||Requests are still open for Ki2k!!

Tags/Warnings: female reader, Valentine’s Day, non-bau!Reader, teacher!reader, Jack's teacher!Reader, Jack Hotchner is present (for those who do not like kid fics, lol), sadly had to use Y/N Y/L/N :P--sorrry!!!

Summary: Jack comes home beaming about his pretty teacher to Hotch everyday, so when Valentine's comes around, he finds the perfect reason to get the two of them together.

Jack's little feet pounded on the pavement as he bounded towards the car where Hotch was waiting, his face lit up with the day's excitements. Throwing open the car door, he barely waited for the buckle to click before he started.

"Dad! Did I tell you what Miss. Y/L/N did today? She showed us how to make volcanoes with baking soda and vinegar! It was awesome!"

Hotch smiled, driving off as he listened. "Sounds like you had fun. Miss. Y/L/N seems very creative."

"She is!" Jack's voice was earnest, eyes wide. "And she's really pretty, too. She wears these nice dresses, and her hair is always perfect."

Hotch raised an eyebrow, a small chuckle escaping him. "Is that so?"

"Yeah! And she's super smart. She knows everything about science and books and... um, maybe you should ask her about the Civil War? You like that stuff, right?" Jack's attempt at casualness was comically transparent.

"I do," Hotch replied, his interest piqued both by the mention of history and the subtle undertone of matchmaking in his son's voice. "Sounds like you think she'd be good company."

Jack nodded vigorously. "She'd be the best! You always say you want someone smart and kind. And she's the best teacher ever. Everyone thinks so."

As they pulled into their driveway, Hotch ruffled Jack's hair, considering the little seeds his son was planting. "Maybe I'll have to meet Miss. Y/L/N at the next parent-teacher conference."

"Yeah! And maybe you can ask her about her favorite book or something," Jack added, hopeful.

Hotch laughed softly, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement at his son's not-so-subtle matchmaking. "Maybe I will, buddy."

Jack grinned, satisfied, his mission for the day accomplished.

The next time Jack came bursting into the car after school, his backpack swinging wildly as he clambered into the passenger seat.

"Dad!" He held up a piece of folded paper, waving it excitedly. "Miss. Y/L/N gave you a note!"

Hotch glanced over as he pulled away from the school parking lot, one hand steady on the wheel. "Oh? What’s it about?"

Jack grinned like he was holding the world's greatest secret. "I think she likes you."

Hotch blinked. "What?"

Jack wiggled in his seat, practically vibrating with excitement. "She sent you a note! Teachers don’t just send notes unless it’s important. And I heard my friend Olivia say that when someone writes you a note, it’s because they like you."

Suppressing a laugh, Hotch reached for the paper at a red light, unfolding it with careful fingers. His eyes skimmed over the words--just a standard, typed letter about an upcoming parent-teacher night and some classroom updates.

"Jack," he said, amusement coloring his voice, "this is just a general note. Every parent got one."

Jack frowned, his enthusiasm faltering for the first time. "Oh." He thought for a second, then brightened again. "But maybe she really wanted you to see it!"

Hotch sighed, shaking his head with a small smile. "I’m sure Miss. Y/L/N is a wonderful teacher, but she’s just doing her job. It’s not a secret message, buddy."

Jack crossed his arms, unconvinced. "I don’t know…she does walk me to pick-up.” 

"Because she walks all the students to parent pick-up," Hotch countered. 

Jack sat in contemplative silence for a few moments before mumbling, "Still think you’d be a good couple."

Hotch chuckled. "Noted."

The school hallways were quieter than usual, the loud bustle of daytime replaced by a hushed, anticipatory energy as parents trickled in for the evening's parent-teacher conferences. Hotch adjusted his tie as he approached your classroom, Jack's enthusiastic endorsements echoing in his mind.

He paused at the doorway, spotting you as you animatedly discussed a student's progress with a couple before him. Even from a distance, your passion was palpable, your gestures animated and your smile bright. When it was finally his turn, you looked up, recognition and warmth lighting up your features.

"Mr. Hotchner, it's great to finally meet you," you greeted, extending a hand. "Jack speaks so highly of you."

"The feeling is mutual," Hotch replied, taking your hand. "He hasn’t stopped talking about you since school started."

As you both sat down, the conversation flowed effortlessly. You shared insights about Jack's strengths and areas for improvement, your words thoughtful and encouraging. Hotch was struck not only by your understanding of his son but also by your genuine care for all your students.

"I strive to create an environment where they can all feel supported and challenged," you explained, your eyes lighting up with a fervor that resonated deeply with Hotch. It was clear teaching was not just a job for you but a calling.

The conversation shifted from academic achievements to personal interests, and Hotch found himself discussing topics he rarely explored with strangers. Your interest in classical literature and your hobbies sparked a shared enthusiasm. Hotch was pleasantly surprised by how much he enjoyed talking about his own rare escapes.

which he seldom shared due to his demanding job.

As the meeting concluded, Hotch stood up, feeling an unexpected reluctance to end the conversation. "Thank you for everything you’re doing for Jack," he said sincerely. "And not just for him--for all the kids."

"It’s truly my pleasure," you replied with a smile. "They make it easy."

There was a brief pause, a moment of shared understanding, and an unspoken acknowledgment of a connection neither expected.

"If you ever need help with any class activities or if you organize any field trips," Hotch added on impulse, "I’d be happy to contribute."

Your smile widened, pleased and surprised. "I'll definitely take you up on that."

As Hotch walked away, he couldn’t shake the warmth that filled his chest. Jack might have had childlike motives for wanting him to meet you, but Hotch couldn’t deny the genuine interest he felt--a spark ignited, perhaps, by the passion and beauty you exuded, both inside and out.

The door clicked shut behind Hotch, and the familiar sound of home was a welcome relief after the draining hours of a difficult case. As he shrugged off his coat, the sight that greeted him was anything but the quiet he had expected. 

Jack was in the midst of chaos, surrounded by a whirlwind of craft supplies--glue sticks, construction paper, crayons--all spread out like a tornado had swept through their living room.

Jack had just begun staying home for short periods of time by himself--something Hotch didn’t take lightly, but this was not a sight that he ever expected to see. 

"Jack, what's going on?" Hotch aske, his tone a mixture of amusement and concern as he stepped carefully over a stray roll of tape.

"Dad!" Jack looked up, his expression frantic but determined. "I need to make the perfect Valentine's card, but nothing looks right!"

Hotch knelt down, picking up a half-finished card that was more glue than paper. "Isn’t tomorrow just the school Valentine's party? What about the box of cartoon Valentines we bought last week?"

Jack shook his head vigorously, sending his hair into disarray. "Those are for my classmates! This one has to be special--it’s for Miss. Y/L/N. I want it to be perfect because I want her to come over for dinner and have a romance like in the movies. Like the Disney ones!" His eyes shone with the earnestness only a child could muster. "And you have the right hair to be like Prince Charming!"

Hotch couldn’t help but laugh softly, touched by his son's intentions yet aware of the need to tread carefully. "Jack, it’s very sweet that you want to do this for Miss. Y/L/N, but inviting her over for dinner and trying to set up a romance--that’s something she and I would have to talk about. It's not on you to worry about."

"But Dad, I just want you to be happy, and Miss. Y/L/N could make you smile," Jack protested, his lower lip trembling just a bit.

Sitting down beside his son, Hotch put an arm around him, pulling him close. "I know, buddy, and that means a lot to me. It’s okay to make her a card, but we should keep it about thanking her for being a great teacher, okay? As for dinner, how about we invite her over as a thank you from both of us, just to enjoy a meal, not as a date? We can see where things go from there."

Jack seemed to consider this for a moment before nodding, a small smile creeping back onto his face. "Can we still make it the best card ever?"

"Absolutely," Hotch agreed, his heart lightening at his son’s quick recovery. "Let’s see what we can create with less glue this time."

Together, they spent the evening crafting a more modest but heartfelt Valentine's card, Hotch guiding Jack’s enthusiastic efforts. As they worked, Hotch couldn’t help but think about your reaction, the warmth of your smile in his mind giving him more hope than he wanted to admit. 

Maybe Jack’s little plan wasn’t so far-fetched after all, just premature. As they set the finished card aside to dry, Hotch found himself looking forward to handing it over, curious and slightly hopeful about where a simple dinner invitation might lead.

Valentine's Day had brought its usual flurry of excitement, and amidst it, Hotch received an email that made him pause. It was from you, thanking him for the generous card and his contributions to the classroom Valentine's Day party. Reading between the lines, Hotch assumed it was also a nod to the dinner invitation Jack had ambitiously included. Buttoning his coat, he headed to the school, curious and admittedly a bit nervous about the meeting.

As he entered the classroom, the scene was vibrant with kids laughing and trading candies and cards. Jack spotted him immediately and with a grin wide enough to split his face, dashed over and grabbed his hand, tugging him through the clusters of giggling children.

"There’s my dad!" Jack announced proudly, pulling Hotch towards you.

You laughed as Jack nearly yanked Hotch off his feet. "Easy there, Jack, don’t break your dad’s arm off!"

Jack paused, gave Hotch a comically exaggerated wink, and said, "I’ll leave the romance to you two--it is Valentine’s Day, after all!"

You chuckled, shaking your head at Jack's antics. "Hotch, you’ve raised quite the little charmer."

Hotch, a bit flushed but smiling, replied, "I’m not sure where he gets that from. I’m currently at a loss for words.

"That’s alright," you said with a gentle smile. "I don’t mind coming up with the words, as long as that dinner is still on the table."

"It definitely is," Hotch assured you, his tone warm and more confident.

From the corner of his eye, Hotch saw Jack giving a not-so-subtle thumbs up before darting off to join his friends, leaving Hotch and you to chat amidst the joyful chaos of the classroom party.

As the children continued their celebrations around you, the two of you discussed logistics for the dinner, the conversation easy and flowing naturally. It was clear that what started as a child’s innocent matchmaking might just turn into something truly special, much to Jack's delight--and perhaps to his credit.

[bytemee]

EVERYTHING I WANT — yu jimin.

"i had finally figured out, you were just around the corner."

synopsis. you’re just the wedding planner for your brother’s wedding, trying to keep it all together. but karina, his fiancée, keeps slipping under your skin. she’s perfect—everything you’ve ever wanted—but she’s marrying your brother.

pairing. brothers!fiance!karina x wedding!planner!fem!reader

warning(s). angst w a mixture of fluff, love triangle, cheating (im sorry), angst with a happy ending.

words. 5.7k

authors note. i remember watching a gay movie like this.

navigation. main masterlist.

karina has a way of capturing the attention of everyone in a room, and her presence alone is enough to make the world pause. she walks in, all bright eyes and effortless grace, and somehow the entire room shifts to accommodate her. it’s almost like she belongs in a space much grander than this, but then, that’s karina—always radiant, always a little untouchable.

you’ve noticed it countless times before—it's part of the reason why your parents are so calm with the idea of your brother marrying her only months after they've met. karina—your brother’s fiancée, the one they think is perfect in every way. karina—the one who is everything they always hoped for in a partner for him. karina—the one who practically begged you to plan her wedding.

you have to admit, they make a beautiful couple. the way karina and your brother stand in the kitchen, laughing over something she said while she chops vegetables, her hands moving easily, like she’s done this a hundred times. your brother’s smiling at her like she’s the only person in the world. it’s all so natural, so effortless. you can’t deny that they love each other—it’s one of those things you just know. like the feeling of the ground beneath your feet or the wind against your skin. it’s just a fact.

it was the first time in a while you've been to their house, but your brother practically forced you into staying at his while you planned the wedding. they don't seem to mind, which is probably good considering you've taken over the living room as a workspace, with papers and decorations and fabric samples spread out across the coffee table and the couch.

but regardless, the two haven't decided on a venue yet, so the planning process is still in full swing. you had a list of about five venues you thought were promising, and you were hoping they'd settle on one soon so you could stop having to lug around your binder everywhere.

karina finishes up her task and sets the knife down, washing her hands off before she turns to you.

she walks over with that signature smile of hers, the one that makes everything seem like it’s shining just a little brighter. “hey, can we talk about the venue options for a sec?” she asks, her voice smooth like velvet, like it always is.

you glance up from the pile of papers in front of you, your gaze meeting hers for a second too long. the way she’s standing there, close enough to reach out and touch, makes it hard to focus. you blink, trying to get your head back in the game. “uh, yeah, sure. what’s on your mind?”

she leans against the back of the couch, her arms crossing lightly over her chest. “i know we’ve got some good options, but…” she hesitates for a moment, as if carefully considering her next words. “i’ve always wanted a wedding on the beach. you know, like those dreamy ones you see in magazines?”

you freeze for a moment, your fingers lingering over the corner of your binder. the beach. you can’t help the pang that hits you when she says it, because it's something you've always imagined for your own wedding one day, not anyone else’s. it’s silly, of course—you shouldn't have gotten so attached to a fantasy. but you can't help it. you'd always imagined a wedding on the beach, with the sun setting over the waves and sand beneath your feet.

she tilts her head a little, as if trying to figure out what's wrong. when you don't say anything, she speaks again, her tone more gentle. "are you okay?"

you try to shake it off, but karina always seems to notice everything. it's a little bit impressive, really. "oh, i'm fine. just a little tired." you quickly speak again before she can question you further. “you know, your fiancé’s pretty set on that greenhouse. it’s a pretty big deal for him.”

she nods, a small frown tugging at her lips. “i know,” she says softly. “i just can’t help but dream of the beach.” she pauses, then her eyes soften, and she adds with a little more playfulness, "i’ll let you handle the tough decisions. you’re the expert here, after all.”

you hate to let her down, but the odds of convincing your brother to change his mind are low. the greenhouse was his idea, and it means a lot to him, since your father married your mom there years ago. he had talked about wanting to recreate that day, the way the light filtered in through the glass, the flowers all around. his eyes had sparkled as he spoke, like he could imagine the entire scene unfolding before him. you couldn’t bring yourself to say no, not when he had been so excited.

you give a small laugh. “i’m just the wedding planner. you’re the one who has to live with the choice.”

she grins at you before walking away.

but even though you tell yourself it won't be your fault if she doesn't get her dream wedding, the guilt doesn't go away. you just hope she won't hate you for not being able to deliver the perfect day she's been waiting for.

you watch as she heads back over to the kitchen, your gaze lingering on her a little longer than it should. her smile is bright as ever, the one you're not sure you've ever seen her without, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes.

you swallow, then return to your work.

the venue. you can't get distracted. you're good at your job. you can do this.

the next few days pass in a flurry of phone calls and emails, and you're barely keeping track of which venue you're supposed to be going to see next. you've visited a handful, but it seems like they've all had the same issue—they don't have the space for the kind of wedding karina's dreaming of.

the pressure is starting to wear on you. you’ve been juggling so many details, from flowers to photographers to caterers, but every venue just feels off in one way or another. some are too big, some too small. others don’t have the kind of beachy vibe karina’s been dreaming of, and you can tell she’s starting to get a little discouraged.

you can see the way her shoulders slump when another place doesn’t meet her expectations, the way she tries to mask her disappointment with that perfect smile of hers. it’s hard to watch. but you also know this is her dream, her wedding. she deserves to have everything she’s envisioned for years.

“i swear, if i see one more ballroom…” you mutter under your breath, flipping through another round of emails, trying to see if any of the new suggestions could work.

karina, seated across from you in the café, lets out a small laugh. “you’re telling me. but we’ve got to keep looking, right?”

you look up, meeting her gaze for the first time in a while. she looks exhausted, her makeup a little faded from a long day of venue tours, but her smile is as warm as ever. it makes your heart ache.

you swallow, then turn back to your phone. "yeah. yeah, we do." you take a sip of your drink, not even removing your eyes from the screen. "i've been hearing a lot of good things about this one place, though."

karina leans forward, her elbows resting on the table. "which one?"

but before you can reply, a giggle leaves her lips, and she points to the side of your nose. "oh my god, you've got whipped cream on your nose. let me…"

her hand reaches out, and then she's touching you, her thumb brushing over the tip of your nose, sending shivers down your spine. she pulls her hand back, a little whipped cream on her thumb.

she smiles. "got it."

you blink, and your brain short-circuits for a second. her touch was so fleeting, but the warmth lingers.

she doesn't notice, already turned back to your phone ready to see the venue you were muttering about.

you exhale. the venue. right. focus.

and then, it happens.

when you get back home, an hour later you hear it from the other room—a loud argument, your brother's voice booming, and karina's pleading for him to just listen. your eyes widen. you'd never heard her raise her voice like that before.

they’ve always been so perfect together, but now, the disagreement over the wedding venue seems to be pushing things too far. you can’t make out the exact words, but you catch a few—the beach, the greenhouse, and your name a couple of times. the door slams shortly after, and everything falls silent.

you glance at the door leading to the hallway, torn between going to see what’s going on and staying out of it. the last thing you want is to get caught in the middle of their argument, but part of you can't help but feel concerned. this isn’t like them—karina, always the picture of composure, and your brother, usually so patient. it doesn’t add up.

you hear footsteps and then a quiet knock at the door. "are you awake?"

you take a deep breath. "yeah, come in."

the door opens, and karina walks in, looking as stunning as ever. her face is still flushed from the argument, but her hair is swept to the side, the light catching on her earrings. even in a moment like this, she's effortlessly beautiful.

"hey," you say softly, motioning toward the couch. "are you okay?"

she sits down beside you, her body relaxing a little, like a weight has been lifted from her shoulders. she nods, taking a deep breath before speaking. "i'm fine. we're fine."

you tilt your head, not fully believing her. you've been friends for years, after all. you can tell when she's holding something back. "are you sure? because i heard—"

"we're fine," she repeats, a little more firmly.

you nod, but you still feel unsure. it's clear they need some time to themselves, and you can't force her to tell you what's going on. “you know,” you say, shifting beside her, “if you need a break, we could do something completely different. a distraction. a moment just for you.”

she looks at you, eyes wide, clearly intrigued by the offer. “like what?”

a slow grin spreads across your face. “let’s get food for starters. and then…"

she cuts you off before you can finish. "as long as it involves wine, i'm in."

the smile is back, and your heart aches with it. you've missed seeing her smile, the way her eyes crinkle at the edges, her whole body seeming lighter. it's a feeling you never want to let go of.

without missing a beat, you get up and grab your keys. “perfect. let's go!"

you hold your hand out, and her fingers are warm in yours as you lead her out the door.

the two of you end up parked in front of a small, neon-lit burger joint tucked away on a quiet street. it’s one of those old-school places with a bright red roof and a hand-painted menu board by the drive-thru. it looks like it hasn't changed much since it was built decades ago, but that's exactly why you love it.

karina’s sitting cross-legged in the passenger seat, the bottle of wine you impulsively grabbed resting between you. you’d managed to snag a couple of burgers and fries to go, and now the two of you are tucked away in the car, sharing fries like you’re the only people in the world.

“this is so random,” she says, laughing softly. she’s still got a bit of a flush from earlier—whether from the wine or the argument, you’re not sure. but for now, you try not to think about it. you don't want to ruin the moment.

“that’s what makes it perfect,” you reply, passing her a fry. she takes it with a smile, your fingers brushing briefly. your heart trips over itself at the contact, and you reach for the bottle of wine to take another sip. it’s not the fanciest vintage, but it’s doing the job.

karina takes the bottle next, swiping at the neck before drinking straight from it. when she lowers it, her eyes are sparkling with something mischievous. “i always liked the idea of writing my vows on something unconventional,” she says suddenly, resting her head against the seat. “like in the movies. you know, scribbled on the back of a napkin or a burger wrapper. something spontaneous and real.”

you can’t help but laugh. “we’ve got burger wrappers right here.”

her eyes light up. “you’re kidding.”

“i’m not.”

she sets down the bottle and grabs the crumpled wrappers from the bag. “alright. let’s do it. right here, right now. our mock wedding.”

you raise an eyebrow. this was not how you thought the night was going to go, but then again, karina has always been full of surprises. she looks so excited at the idea; you can't bring yourself to say no. you're already in this deep, after all.

you grab a pen from the glove compartment, the tipsy energy between you growing contagious. you hand it over, and karina carefully smooths out one of the wrappers on her lap.

“alright,” she declares, biting back a grin. “i vow to always share my fries with you. even the crispy ones.”

you snort. “that’s a big promise.”

“and i vow to never judge you for eating burgers at midnight,” she adds, her grin widening.

“okay, my turn,” you say, leaning in. “i vow to always keep you stocked up on wine and burgers. and fries. all the good stuff. just in case of an emergency, of course. or for a spontaneous road trip. whichever comes first, i guess."

you're both giggling, and then her smile softens. she looks at you with those eyes, and for a moment, the rest of the world falls away. then her expression shifts. she takes a deep breath, fingers toying with the pen. “one more,” she says, her voice quieter now. “i vow to always be someone you can turn to, no matter what. even when things get messy or complicated.”

her eyes are still on yours, and you can't bring yourself to break the contact. you feel like the air has been knocked out of your lungs, and it's almost too much, too fast.

you finally manage to get the words out, your voice coming out a little strained. "i promise too."

karina smiles softly, reaching over to brush a strand of hair from your face. “let’s go somewhere,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper.

“where?” you ask, still breathless.

she glances at the horizon, where the stars are just beginning to scatter across the night sky. “the beach.”

without another word, you put the car in drive and head toward the coast. the streets are quiet, the hum of the tires against the road the only sound as the town fades behind you. it feels like the rest of the world doesn’t exist—just you, karina, and the open road.

when you arrive, the beach is deserted, bathed in moonlight and the soft crashing of waves. you both kick off your shoes and walk toward the shoreline, the sand cool beneath your feet. karina stops just shy of the water, turning to face you.

“alright,” she says, holding out her hand. “let’s make this official.”

you laugh, taking her hand. “this is the most spontaneous fake wedding i’ve ever been a part of.”

her grin is wide, a little wild, like she’s already planning something outrageous. “just wait until our real wedding. then it’ll really be a show.”

the words hit you harder than expected—our real wedding. your mind flashes with an image: karina walking down the aisle, her dress swishing with every elegant step, her smile lighting up the whole room.

karina squeezes your hand gently, bringing you back to reality. "are you ready?"

you give her a tiny nod. “i’m ready.”

she turns to face you, her smile dimming just enough to make the moment feel serious. she takes a steadying breath before starting. “i vow to always share my fries with you—even the crispy ones.”

you grin. "i vow to not get jealous when you share your fries with someone else."

"that's a fair point." she pauses for a moment, glancing at the moon overhead. when she speaks again, her voice is softer. "i vow to not forget about all the nights we've stayed up talking, the sun just starting to rise, and how i could listen to your voice forever. and i vow to always be someone you can count on, no matter what."

her words make your heart ache. you swallow, trying to push down the feeling. "i vow to never give up, even when things get tough. even when everything's changing around us. and i vow to always be a place you can run to."

the words hang between you for a moment, and you feel like the whole world has stopped. everything feels surreal, like a dream, the kind you're afraid of waking up from. then she steps closer, so close you can feel the warmth radiating off her. her next words are softer, more serious, the playfulness stripped away. “do you vow to take me to the best burger joints at midnight?”

your voice is quieter now too. “i do.”

“do you vow to share your fries with me, even the crispy ones?”

“i do.”

she takes a small, shaky breath, her gaze locked on yours. “and do you vow to always be my friend? to stand by me, even when things get hard or messy?”

your throat tightens, but somehow you manage to speak. “i do.”

karina’s lips twitch, but she doesn’t smile fully. there's something vulnerable in her expression, like she's revealing a piece of herself she's never shown before. "do you promise to always remember tonight? how special this moment is?"

"i do."

she nods, her eyes shining. "good. because i do, too."

her gaze drops to your lips, and you realize what she's doing a second too late. before you can even process what's happening, her mouth is on yours, warm and soft and sweet. it's the kind of kiss you feel all the way down to your toes, the kind that makes the rest of the world disappear.

it's everything and nothing all at once.

then the moment passes, and she's pulling away, a little breathless. "i'm sorry. i just…"

you blink, trying to find the right words, but nothing comes out.

she swallows, then steps back, her cheeks flushed. "i'm sorry, i don't know what came over me. that was stupid. we should go."

she turns and walks off, her footsteps echoing through the darkness. you watch her leave, not daring to say anything, because if you speak, you'll break the spell. you'll wake up from this dream, and it'll all be gone, and this moment will be lost forever.

karina speedwalks to your car, her ears hot and her head spinning. what the hell did i just do? she opens the car door and climbs in, her body feeling weightless. the kiss was an impulse, a split-second decision, and now she's left wondering why the hell she thought it was a good idea.

you get in the car a moment later, your expression unreadable. you're silent for a few beats, then you clear your throat. "here take my jacket," you say, reaching over to drape it around her shoulders. "you look cold."

her chest tightens. of course, you're being kind and sweet. god, why did she have to ruin the moment?

she takes the jacket, but it does nothing to warm the chill that's seeped into her bones. she's so confused. one minute, she's getting engaged, and the next, she's kissing you, the one person who's never given her a reason to doubt. she feels like she's falling apart, piece by piece.

"let's get you home," you say quietly, starting the car.

karina nods, her eyes focused on the window. the rest of the ride is silent, neither of you daring to say a word.

a month passed since that night—the kiss that left you spinning and karina’s unexpected confession. you’d both fallen into a strange rhythm after that. conversations were shorter, more careful, as if the words had to be handled with gloves. and though things seemed okay on the surface, there was a distance that neither of you knew how to bridge.

she was still okay with the greenhouse. you’d finalized every last detail together, but it felt like neither of you were talking about what really mattered. instead, you both threw yourselves into the wedding planning like it was the only way to keep moving forward.

it was just after midnight when you found yourself back in the kitchen, pouring a glass of water. it had been a long day, and your mind was still racing. you stood there for a while, sipping slowly, mind wandering.

the front door creaked open. your brother stumbled in, his suit rumpled, tie hanging loosely around his neck. his eyes were bloodshot, and he reeked of whiskey and something faintly floral—perfume. you could guess what had happened.

“company celebration,” he muttered, not meeting your eyes. “big news… big, big news.”

you wrapped an arm around him and helped him upstairs. he leaned on you heavily, his usually confident demeanor dulled by the alcohol. when you sat him down on the edge of your bed, you noticed it—lipstick stains on the collar of his shirt, faint but undeniable.

your stomach twisted. you swallowed hard, forcing the lump in your throat down. it was none of your business. after all, she cheated as well...with you.

after he passed out, you quietly shut the door and went back downstairs. there was no sleep to be found, not when your thoughts were tangled in the events of what's happened over the past three months—the kiss, karina’s sudden agreement to the greenhouse wedding, the lipstick stains. it was too much.

you sat at the dining room table and pulled out your laptop. the wedding planning documents filled the screen, emails flooding in with suggestions and changes. you worked mindlessly, letting the repetition of it all keep your thoughts at bay.

the hours bled into one another, and before you knew it, pale sunlight was breaking through the windows. your eyes burned, your muscles ached, but you couldn’t stop.

footsteps behind you made you freeze.

karina.

her hair was a mess of loose waves, and she wore one of those oversized pajama shirts she loved. she had two mugs of coffee in hand, the familiar scent of hazelnut filling the room. without a word, she placed one in front of you.

“you’ve been up all night,” she said quietly.

“i had things to do,” you answered, not meeting her eyes.

karina sighed, taking in the dark circles under your eyes and the tension in your shoulders. “you’re burning yourself out.”

when you didn’t say anything, she walked around the table and stood behind you. her hands found your shoulders, fingers pressing gently into the knots there. she massaged in slow circles, her thumbs working out the tightness you hadn’t even noticed.

her voice was soft as she spoke, barely more than a whisper. "you should get some sleep. you can't keep doing this."

but you were too tired, too worn down, to respond. you couldn’t focus on anything other than the feeling of her hands on your shoulders, the warmth of her touch sinking into your skin.

she leaned down, her breath tickling your ear. "can we talk?"

"yeah," you managed.

karina let go and moved to the seat across from you. she looked like she was struggling with something, the same look from the night at the beach, when she had asked you to promise her to remember. her fingers tapped on the mug. you could tell she was stalling, trying to decide what to say, but eventually, the words came.

"i'm sorry."

you were sorry too. for so many things, but you didn't say them out loud. instead, you just nodded.

"i never meant for this to happen," she said. "but it's all getting a little too much."

you were exhausted. tired of everything—the wedding, the kiss, the feelings. tired of being the planner. tired of pretending everything was fine when it wasn't.

karina's gaze dropped to her hands, her voice small. "i didn't mean to make things weird between us. i just didn't know what to do."

"it's okay," you replied, because it was all you could say.

"it's not," she insisted. "you're my best friend. i don't want to lose that."

she was right. you were her best friend. she was supposed to be marrying your brother, not making out with you at midnight. the thought sent a shiver down your spine.

"we'll get through this. together." you tried to sound convincing, but it fell flat.

"will we?" her voice was barely audible. "you've been pushing me away for weeks. i can tell."

you shook your head, but it was pointless. the truth was staring you in the face, and it wasn't pretty.

karina sighed, her gaze lifting from the table to meet yours. "i'm sorry. i don't want things to be awkward between us. i don't want this to change things."

her eyes were filled with such honesty and vulnerability, it made your chest ache. you wanted to reach out, hold her, and reassure her that everything was going to be okay, but you couldn't. you couldn't bring yourself to lie.

you rubbed your hands over your face, trying to ease the tension building behind your eyes. the words were stuck, clawing at your throat, desperate to escape. but what could you say?everything was so tangled.

“i’m not pushing you away,” you finally managed, though it felt hollow. “i just… don’t know how to handle all this.”

she gave you a weak smile, but her eyes were still sad.

the silence stretched between you, growing heavier with each passing moment. neither of you knew what to say.

“i don’t want to hurt you,” she said suddenly, her voice trembling.

your stomach twisted, and you had to look away. “you’re not hurting me.”

it was a lie, and you both knew it. but what good would the truth do?

karina sighed, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. she looked exhausted, like she hadn’t slept in days. maybe she hadn’t. “i just want us to be okay. like before.”

“before,” you repeated, the word tasting bitter on your tongue. before everything. before the kiss. before you saw your brother stumble in last night, lipstick stains betrayed his lies.

she nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. "yeah, before. like we promised in our vows."

you let out a breath. was she really bringing this up now? "our fake vows."

karina flinched, as if your words had physically struck her. she looked at you, her eyes pleading. "you promised to always remember that night. that's not nothing."

you closed your eyes, trying to block out the memory. it was a mistake. a stupid, impulsive decision. one you shouldn't have made. one you shouldn't be thinking about.

"look, it's fine. we'll just forget it ever happened. like we're supposed to."

"are we?"

you stared at her, your throat tightening. "yes. because that's what's best. for everyone."

she swallowed, her eyes glossy with unshed tears. "okay. if that's what you want."

"it is." the words were heavy, weighing on your chest, crushing the air from your lungs.

"alright. then i guess we should go back to planning."

she forced a smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. the conversation was over.

and that was it. you tried not to think about the kiss or the way her hand had felt in yours. but the memories lingered, refusing to let go.

the day of the wedding arrived. you stood at the back of the greenhouse, feeling out of place as the carefully chosen flowers, delicate white drapes, and twinkling fairy lights filled the space with a sense of serenity that felt foreign to you. everything about this moment was supposed to be beautiful, perfect, just as your brother had imagined. but you couldn’t shake the unease that knotted in your stomach.

the ceremony was supposed to feel like a celebration, a milestone in their lives. but it wasn’t. the sight of your brother, standing at the altar with the priest, waiting for karina, made something inside you tighten. he was smiling, his hands clasped together in anticipation. but the thought of him with her—knowing everything that had happened between the two of you—suddenly felt wrong. not to mention what he did himself.

and then, she appeared.

karina entered, her arm linked with your father’s, walking down the aisle with the grace of someone who belonged in a dream. the flowing ivory gown clung to her figure in a way that made your breath catch. the soft music playing in the background seemed to fade as you watched her approach, unable to tear your eyes away.

her gaze flickered to you for the briefest of moments. it was only a glance, but it held so much. the quiet acknowledgment that things weren’t the way they were supposed to be. that this wasn’t how it was supposed to feel.

you could barely breathe. you had promised to be strong, to be there for her. but seeing her like this, walking down the aisle toward your brother, was impossible. all the promises you had made, all the words you had told her in the days leading up to this, suddenly felt so hollow. she wasn’t yours. she never had been, and yet, everything inside you screamed that she should be.

you couldn’t stay.

without thinking, you turned and quietly slipped out of the greenhouse, avoiding the curious glances of your family. the sounds of the ceremony, the murmurs of the guests, faded as you walked, faster and faster, until you were outside, out of the view of the guests, heading straight for the beach.

the water was cool, the sand soft beneath your feet, the gentle breeze soothing. but it wasn't enough. you could still feel the ache in your chest, the heaviness that had settled there the moment you saw karina walking down the aisle.

you had been so certain that you could do this, that you could keep your promise and be there for her, no matter what. but now, standing on the beach, the waves washing over your feet, you realize how foolish it had been to think that.

you sank to the sand, burying your face in your hands. how had things gotten this far? how had everything become so tangled, so complicated, so fast? and why did it feel like your heart was being torn in two?

you were torn in so many directions, your mind spinning with thoughts of karina, of the kiss, of your brother, and of everything that had led to this moment. you wanted to scream, to let the confusion and frustration pour out of you, but you couldn’t. you couldn’t make sense of it all.

everything felt like it was unraveling, and there was nothing you could do to stop it. the hurt, the guilt, the love that you couldn’t seem to let go of—it all washed over you, suffocating you. you loved her. you had always loved her, but it was wrong. she was marrying your brother. it wasn’t supposed to be like this. you weren’t supposed to be the one to feel this way.

but the feeling was there, as real as the sand beneath your feet and the wind against your skin. you couldn't deny it, no matter how hard you tried.

"y/n."

your heart skipped a beat. you looked up, and there she was, standing at the edge of the sand. karina, still in her wedding dress, the fabric flowing around her as she stepped toward you, barefoot.

"y/n," she repeated, her voice soft, almost pleading.

you were frozen, unable to move, unable to speak. your throat tightened; the words stuck.

“what are you doing here?” you managed to ask, your voice wavering.

“i couldn’t let you go,” she said, her voice breathless. “i can’t let you walk away from me. not like this.”

you stood up, unsure of what to say, but before you could form any words, karina was running toward you, her wedding dress trailing behind her. she didn’t stop until she was right in front of you, her hands trembling as she reached for yours.

"i can’t marry him," she whispered, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "not when i feel like this. not when it’s you i want."

the words hit you like a punch to the gut. your mind raced. "karina, this isn’t—"

"i don’t care," she interrupted. "i can’t pretend anymore. i’m sorry. i should’ve told you sooner. i should’ve never let you go, even when i knew how wrong it was. but i can’t marry him when i’m in love with you."

you blinked, staring at her. in love with you. she was in love with you. the words echoed in your head, and you couldn't find the strength to speak.

"y/n, please. say something."

karina’s face crumpled, and she stepped closer, her hands trembling as she cupped your face. “please,” she whispered, “don’t let me lose you. you're everything i want."

her touch was warm, and you couldn't help but lean into it. she was so close, and you could feel her heartbeat, her breathing, her warmth. it was intoxicating, and before you knew what you were doing, your lips met hers, gentle and tender, as if she was afraid of breaking you.

but you couldn't break. not when she was kissing you like this. not when her lips were so soft, and her arms were around your waist, pulling you closer. it felt like the world was shifting, the ground giving way beneath your feet. but she was there, holding onto you, her grip tight and desperate, like she was afraid of losing you.

the kiss deepened, and everything else fell away. all you could feel was her. all you could think about was how right it felt, how perfect it was, and how this was the moment you had been waiting for. you were home, in her arms, and nothing else mattered.

the kiss broke, and karina pulled back, her breathing ragged. her eyes were bright, full of emotion, and you knew yours were the same.

"i love you," she whispered, her voice cracking. "i love you, and i'm sorry i didn't realize it sooner."

the words washed over you, and for the first time, everything felt right.

"i love you too," you breathed, not caring that it was wrong or that you shouldn't be saying it. you couldn't stop yourself, and the feeling of finally letting the words out was overwhelming. "you're everything i want…and more."

her eyes widened, and then a smile tugged at her lips, wide and bright, as if the weight of the world had been lifted off her shoulders. she kissed you again, fierce and passionate, and you could feel her joy, her relief, her love. it was the kind of kiss that made your heart swell, that made you feel like you were floating, and nothing could ever come between you.

"i'm yours," she whispered against your lips, her voice breaking. "i'll always be yours."

[miniwheat77]

Take it off. (Neighbor!Graves x Reader.)

!nsfw, smut, spanking, p in v sex, unprotected sex, bad parenting, blood, violence, MDNI!

He steps inside the police station. He sees you sitting in handcuffs at a desk. They’re obviously going over release paperwork. He shakes his head. “How can I help you?” A woman asks. “Uh. I’m here to pick up Y/N.” He nods to you. You hear his voice and don’t even acknowledge him. “Oh okay. She’ll be released in about 10 minutes when we’re done with paperwork. Are you a parent, guardian, or legal adult? She has to be released under those conditions.” She asks. “I’m her neighbor, her mom is out of town and she’s staying with me.” He nods. “Okay, do you have written permission from her mom or an ID?” He nods his head, following her to the desk. Once he’s got it all approved, he goes to sit by the door. He’s irritated. It’s late, he shouldn’t be here picking your ass up. If it weren’t for them he would’ve left you here until morning. Eventually, they walk you up front where he’s sitting. Uncuffing you and sending you over to him. He says nothing, just stands up and starts walking.

An eye roll is all Phillip gets from you when you get inside his car.

The only words out of his mouth so far are “we’ll talk later.” You don’t care. You can’t find it in you to care about what your stupid neighbor thinks of you.

Phillip knows that your mom doesn’t know what to do with you. She doesn’t believe in discipline for some reason. Probably because she wasn’t always around and wants to make up for it. But Phillip can’t take this anymore. He pulls off of the highway, down a dirt road. He can see the way you stiffen up. “Where are we going?”

He says nothing, just keeps driving.

Once he’s a ways off of the main road, where he knows no one will hear or see anything. He stops, throwing the truck into park. He sighs. “We’re not going anywhere until you tell me what the hell is going on, because I’ve just about had it. You’re Eighteen now, you keep doing this shit and you’re going to land yourself in real Prison.” He groans. You scoff, reaching for the door handle. He’s quick, grasping your arm and holding onto you tight. “Ow! You’re hurting me!” You gasp. He reaches over you, locking the door. “I can promise you, if I wanted to hurt you, I would. Now listen to me.” He breathes. He tugs you into him. “No one else will say anything to you for some reason, but I’m done with it. You’re going to be staying with me and you’re gonna abide by my rules. Do you understand?” He breathes.

He can see the way your eyes darken. “Fuck you.” You growl.

He laughs, shaking his head. “Suit yourself sweetheart.” He sighs.

You don’t know what he’s going to do. But he’s mad. He’s pissed off, angrier than you’ve ever seen him. You can’t help but feel scared. Your tough act is faltering.

“Take your shirt off.”

Your blood runs cold. Hearing those words.

“What?”

“You heard what I said. Go on.” He nods. “No- no I’m not doing that-“

He grips your arm again. “Either you take it off, or I cut it off. Your choice.” You hear the sound of his pocket knife flicking open. The spring snaps and you jump.

“What are you doing?”

He leans into you, he’s still seething. “I’m going to show you what I do to bad girls.” He mumbles. Lips right against your ear. “Take it off.” He breathes.

Your hands start to shake, unsure of what exactly he’s going to do. So you do. You grasp the hem of it, yanking it over your head quickly. Somehow you think it will help. “Good girl. Now your pants.”

“Phillip please-“

“Ah!” He raises his hand to keep you from speaking. “I don’t want to hear it, take them off.”

Your heart is in your stomach. “I thought you were tough. Hm? I thought you didn’t say please or beg for anything?” He’s being harsh and he knows it. But he needs to teach you this lesson. He clutches your chin, forcing your head up to look at him.

“You keep putting yourself out there. Testing everyone’s patience and being a little brat. Not listening and talking back to people who are trying to help you. With no repercussions. But I’m not going to let you get away with it anymore. Now… Take. Them. Off.” He can see tears gathering in your waterline. They make your eyes shine, only now he can see right through your facade. The beautiful broken girl behind the tough exterior.

He knew he’d see it someday. It just sucks that it had to be like this.

You move a little slower to take them off. Sliding them down your hips and then your legs. Leaving them on the floorboard of his truck and hiding yourself. “What are you going to do?” You look up at him. He shakes his head. He reaches over you to unlock the door once more.

He climbs out of the truck, walking around to your side. He’s still pissed. He opens up your door, motioning for you to step out. You swallow hard but he’s helping you down, pulling your arm. Your feet hit the ground. You swallow hard, a gasp leaving your lips as he spins you around. He pushes you up against his truck. It’s cold. You breathe out. “You’re going to count for me.”

He breathes. You’re about to ask ‘what?’ But his hand clapping against your backside has you hissing out. “I said count.” He grasps a handful of your hair, tugging your head back. “One!” You gasp it out.

“That’s a good girl. Learning fast.” He growls.

Phillip shouldn’t be as hard as he is. He’s turned on, throbbing in his jeans over this. It’s pathetic.

His hand meets your ass again, and again. Until it’s raw and you’re crying. He’s impressed, you haven’t asked him to stop. You’ve accepted it.

“F-fifteen!” It’s the last one out of your mouth and he lets your hair go. You hang your head.

He presses himself up against you, breathing in the scent of your hair. “Get in the truck.” He growls. You obey immediately.

He walks around to the other side. Getting into the drivers seat. “Phillip?”

“Hm?”

“Can I put my c-clothes back on?” You look him in the eyes when you ask the question, and this is how he knows he’s gotten to you. “Yes. Good girl.” He waits for you to be dressed again. Seeing the way you wince when you put your jeans back on. He should’ve given you the proper aftercare but you had to wait for that. You had to show him that you could be a good girl.

The drive home is quiet. He’s surprised when he pulls into the driveway. You don’t jump out of the truck and rush to your house when he pulls in. You stay put, waiting for him to tell you when you could go.

You usually would challenge someone like Phillip. But you know he’s serious. And if what he did today was his first punishment, you’d hate to see what else he could do.

He tells you that he was serious. That you’d be staying with him for the time being and that he would show you up to his guest room. Once he shows it to you and gives you some time to settle in, he’s going to meet you up there but you don’t know it yet.

He looks through his bathroom, digging around for something soothing. He comes across some aloe, figuring it’s probably more soothing than any fragrant lotion laying around. He also grabs one of his t-shirts for you to sleep in. He makes his way upstairs. He doesn’t bother to knock, just walks right in. You’re lying on your side. Avoiding your sore backside. “Pants.” He nods. “Off.”

You stand up, tugging them down your legs quickly. “Lay on your stomach.” He nods to the bed. You do it immediately. He sets the shirt down in front of you. “That’s for you to sleep in.”

“Thank you.” He’s surprised how fast you are learning. He sits down beside you, squeezing some of the aloe vera gel into his hands and rubbing them together. You jump slightly when he presses it into your skin. He massages it into the sore, red skin. He can see you visibly relax.

He keeps adding more until the redness is gone. You’re still going to be sore for a while, maybe a day or two. But you’re far better than before. When he pulls his hands away, you hesitate. “You’re being a good girl. And I’m sorry for being so rough with you. But you have to understand that I won’t put up with your bad behavior anymore. I was mean, but I promise you I can be far worse. Be a good girl, and you and I will get along just fine. Do I make myself clear?”

You look him in the eyes. “Yes sir.”

“Good girl.”

He can see your eyes, there’s something different in them now. You’re no longer angry or hurt by his actions, he can tell by the way you’ve settled down. But there’s something else. He doesn’t catch it.

He says goodnight to you, leaving you alone in the room to think about the night you’ve just had.

And how you make a deal with yourself that you’ll never act like this around Phillip again. You don’t want to see this side of him again. Not ever.

For the next couple weeks, you’re good. You clean up after yourself. When you talk to Phillip it’s “no sir/yes sir.” That’s it. He’s broken the bad in you. The few times he catches you doing something you’re not supposed to, his punishments are just as bad but he hasn’t spanked you since that night after the police station. And you learn pretty quickly that he’s done messing around. You had to be good now.

But there’s something else, you’re acting far different from before. You’re eager to please him almost. He wonders if maybe he’d taken it too far.

He decides to approach you.

He lets himself into your room again, you greet him with a smile, immediately asking if he needs something done. He shakes his head. “Sit down, love.” You act fast.

He sits down next to you. “Listen. Maybe I was a little too rough on you before.” He mumbles. “I don’t need you to be my servant. Alright? You don’t have to ask permission for every little thing. I just need you to be a good girl. That’s all.” He breathes.

“Phillip..” you trail off, avoiding his gaze. You’re hiding something and he can see it in your eyes. “I thought I was doing good.”

“Of course you are, you’re doing a little too good.” He laughs.

You swallow hard. Your throat is dry. “Is there something going on?” He asks.

You look down. “Don’t lie to me.” He breathes. He rests his hand on your thigh, and can see the way you stiffen at his touch. You don’t seem scared?

“Phillip.. am..” you pause for a second, you’re avoiding the contact but your eyes trail to his as the words leave your lips. “Am I bad girl if I liked it?”

It takes him a second to realize exactly what it is that you’re talking about. He can’t help but laugh, completely shocked by just how much you’ve changed. “No.. no. It doesn’t make you a.. bad girl. If you were acting out on purpose to get punished, that would make you bad. But no.” He doesn’t know what to say. “Is that all?” He asks. You nod your head. He takes a deep breath. “You sure?”

“Yes sir.” You look up at him. Your eyes are shining. That gleam, it’s lust. He knows it now.

You liked when he spanked you. What kind of monster had he created?

Phillip wonders why you don’t seem to know what’s going on. You seem naive when it comes to this. He hesitates before he stands up. “Y/N. Have you ever had a boyfriend?” He asks. “No sir.” He nods his head. He fucked up. Bad. “Listen.. I need you to be good until your mom gets home. You don’t have to be my servant, just be normal alright?” You nod your head. You’ve still got that same look in your eyes, it feels like you’re eating him alive with your gaze and he feels like a creep for this. How could you feel this way when he’s done that to you? What was wrong with you?

She’s got no other authoritative person in her life idiot, you’re the first.

The voice in his head speaks for him and he starts to understand. But he couldn’t let this go any further than it already had. “We clear?” He asks. You nod your head. “Yes sir.” Your voice is barely above a whisper. It’s soft and it concerns him.

For the next few days, it’s normal. Except Phillip finds himself avoiding you. He doesn’t want this to go any further, so he avoids it entirely. When your mom comes home finally, he’s sending you back there and she’s surprised how well behaved you are. She talks to Phillip about how good he did with you, but the gaze you have on him just eats him alive. A couple days later, he notices he hasn’t seen your mom’s car in a while. He finds it odd.

He sees no activity coming from your house so he decides to watch for a little bit and he sees you going outside to do what you’re supposed to. Keeping the lawn nice, taking the trash out. He spots something off about you, you’re wearing different clothes than normal.

He sighs. He opens up his door, making his way across your yard as you rest on your knees on the ground. Planting flowers. “Hey.” He crosses his arms. “Hi.” Your voice is low. “Your mom leave again?” He asks. “Yeah. Her boyfriend is paying to fly her to Jamaica for the rest of the summer and their anniversary.” You explain. “Wait.. isn’t that a couple months away?” He asks. You nod your head. “Mhm. They’re gonna be gone a long time.”

He sighs. Phillip feels bad. Because you have no decent parent in your life. “Um.. well. Hey. I’ll be right next door if you need anything at all.”

He can’t see you, but your lips turn up in a smile. “Thanks Phillip. I’ll be alright though.”

“What uh.. what are you wearing?” He asks. The pleated skirt and ribbed tank top definitely doesn’t look like something he’s seen you in before. “Uh.. my mom said that it’s what girls my age should be wearing.” You sigh, standing up. You finally turn to look at him. “She doesn’t like my other clothes so she threw them out. When I got mad, we got into a fight and then she was gone the next day. This is what she left me with, this and a few other things.” You sigh. He nods. “I’m sorry to hear that.” You shrug. “Nothing I can do.”

“Why don’t you move out?”

“She takes my money.”

“What?”

You nod your head. “I had some money saved for a deposit on an apartment and she found out about it. Took the money and got me fired.”

“Why?”

“Because who will take care of the house for free while she’s gone if I’m not here?”

It suddenly makes sense to Phillip. The rebelling. The back talking and not doing what she asks of you. It makes sense now. He thinks to himself. “How about we make a deal hm?”

You tilt your head, your eyes travel to his jawline and there it is again. That same fucking look in your eyes.

“If you do some chores around my house I’ll pay you. And you can keep your money at my house so that she doesn’t find out about it. That goes for any other money you make too. Maybe I can help you find a job.” You smile. “You’d do that for me?” He nods his head. “Thank you Phillip.” You smile. “For now uh.. don’t do that.”

You look at him confused. “What?”

“Don’t do that for them. If they can’t include you in their lives, they don’t deserve someone who takes care of their house.”

“But..” you swallow hard. “But you said-“

He laughs. “Forget what I said alright? Fuck them.” You swallow hard. Turning to look away from him. You hadn’t heard anyone curse in weeks and hearing it from him seems to catch you off guard. “Why don’t you come over? I was watching a movie.”

“Uh.. sure. Let me change.” You mumble. He nods. You turn to walk away and so does he.

He can’t help but to think to himself, how good you look on your knees.

He has to shake himself out of his thoughts, he shouldn’t be feeling this way and he knew it would happen if he didn’t keep his distance from you. He can’t deny it. You’re such a pretty girl and you’re so sweet too. It’s a curse really. Or maybe a blessing in disguise. He tries not to think too hard on it.

———

He gives you a few chores around his house to start and is surprised by how quickly you finish it. And you do a really good job too. It’s got to be from all of the times your mom had left you alone to do chores around her house. It makes him wonder how long you’d put up with it before you finally started rebelling and he wonders if he was too hard on you before.

You started spending a lot of time around his house when he’s home. He gets used to your presence.

The two of you were watching a movie, he’d fallen asleep.

He hears a loud bang, followed by a car alarm. He jolts awake, looking around. He doesn’t see you anywhere. He hears another crash, this time it sounds like glass shattering. He makes his way up to a window and freezes when he sees your mom holding a baseball bat.

He rushes to the door, opening it and stepping outside. “What the hell is going on!” He calls out. She ignores him, continuing to destroy anything in her path.

He felt like he’d gotten rather close to your mom, despite recently finding out how vile she could be. But she doesn’t stop, so he passes by. He walks inside your house, seeing your step-dad sitting in the living room. He doesn’t care about him either, rushing to find you. The house is torn apart and Phillip steps on glass as he makes his way through. He’s thankful he still had shoes on.

He sees your bedroom is empty but the bathroom near it is closed and locked, the light is on. He knocks but no one answers. “Y/N?”

“Phillip?” He hears you sniffle. “Yeah it’s me, what’s going on darling? Open the door.” He asks.

You open it immediately, throwing yourself into him. “Woah- hey.” You let out a sob, wrapping your arms around his neck. He steps into the bathroom with you, closing the door behind himself and locking it. He kneels down, setting you back down. He closes the lid to the toilet and has you sit down. Only now he sees that you’ve got blood all over your face and hands. “Y/N, you need to tell me what’s going on. Calm down.”

You hiccup, taking in a deep breath. “S-she- they came home when we were watching a movie so I went out to greet them. I didn’t understand why they were home. She yelled at me for not keeping up on the lawn and the house, so I went to bed as normal but I woke up to them fighting…“ you take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. “He hit her so I tried to get between them and he broke a bottle over my head.”

Phillip is furious.

You take in another deep breath, tears spilling over your eyes. “My mom got mad too. That’s when she grabbed the bat.”

He sighs. “Just.. I’m going to walk you to the front door, when we get there, you’re going to run to my house and lock the door and go to my room okay? You don’t let anyone in but me.” He holds your hands as he says it. You nod your head. “Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good girl. Come on.”

He opens up the door, holding you behind him. He doesn’t hear anything. He leads you out, passing by your step dad who was still sitting on the couch. When you get to the front door, he nudges you forward and you dash to his house. He makes sure you make it before turning around. “What are you doing here? This is none of your business.”

Your mom startles him.

He swallows hard, gritting his teeth. “I’m afraid since this involves Y/N, it is my business. Considering I’ve had to parent her more than you in the last few months.” He reaches forward, snatching the bat from her hands. “Go.” He growls. She walks inside the house. “You know. I’ve seen horrible people before. I have. But you really set the bar on that one. You people are the most horrid, the worst. You’re so cruel to her for no reason and you won’t even let her leave. And you? Breaking a bottle over her head. And you doing nothing about it?” Phillip shakes his head. The two say nothing.

“I have enough standing in the military to disappear you. To wipe the traces of you both clean off the map. So you?” He points to your mom. “Go. And don’t ever look back. If I so much as hear your name, I will come looking.”

She swallows hard, standing up. “Go!” He growls. She hurries to the door.

“What about me, hm?” He stands up.

“You’re going to pay for hurting her.”

———

Phillip walks back across the lawn to his house. Knocking at the door. It takes a while before he hears your footsteps. Just barely since you’re trying to be quiet. “It’s me Y/N.” He mumbles.

You open the door right up, eyes widening when you see him. “What happened?”

“Nothing, don’t worry about it okay?”

You look up at him, eyes wide. He’s got blood all over his hands.

“Come on, I’ve got to take a look at your head.” He takes your hand, leading you into his bathroom. He flicks the light on. You’ve got a few gashes across your head. Nothing too bad luckily. He helps you clean them up the best he can.

He cleans the blood off of himself. He’s only got a couple cuts and bruises. He’s gotten away luckier than you. “I’m sorry he did that to you.” He’s leaning up against his kitchen counter, beer in hand. You’re sitting at his table. Leaning back. “It’s okay, I’ve been through worse.” You mumble. “What will I do now? Do you think she’s gone for good?” You look at him.

“I think so. But… you’ll do what you usually do.” He takes a swig of his beer.

“You’ll just stay with me.”

You nod your head. “I’m sorry that you’ve pretty much had to parent me. It’s not your job.”

He laughs. “No, you’re right. It’s not my job. However, you wouldn’t be here if I didn’t mind.” He smiles. You look down.

“Do you think she’ll always be that way?” You ask.

He sighs. “Maybe not forever but for a long time. People don’t usually change. Not until their life is almost over and then they start to regret it. But.. you and I will get this figured out. I’ll get you set up and taken care of.” He nods.

“Thank you Phillip.” He smiles.

The house your mom and stepdad had was nice. Since he’d given your stepdad the beating of a lifetime, getting it into his name was easy. He fixed a couple small things here or there and had it up for sale within a couple weeks.

All of the money from the house he put into an account for you. You were completely surprised when he’d given you the account information and put your name on the account.

“Should be more than enough for a place of your own and some to live on until you figure out what you want to do.”

You’re scared.

You’ve never done any of this before and now you have to figure it out all on your own with no parents to help you. And Phillip has made it very clear that he’s only temporary.

You grow distant from him and he notices it.

You find a job and start working more. Phillip thought he’d be okay with it.

But he actually hates it.

He wanted to keep away from you. Keep those sick thoughts of touching you out of his head but he just can’t help it and he knows he’s hurting you by how distant you’ve grown and if he doesn’t fix this, he’s going to fuck it up for good.

You creep in late, not expecting him to still be awake. When you close the door behind yourself, he flicks the light on, startling you.

“Jesus.” You mumble.

He smiles, beer in hand. “Caught ya this time darling. Sit down.” He mumbles.

You do, you’ve always listened so good to him.

“How are you doing? You live here and yet I feel like I hardly hear from you.” He laughs. “Just.. working and stuff. Apartment hunting.” You mumble. You’re avoiding his eye contact like it’s the plague.

“Yeah?” He laughs.

He stands up from his chair, setting his beer down on the coffee table and moving to sit next to you. He was acting weird.

“You don’t have to be in that big of a hurry, you know.” He sets his arm behind you on the back of the couch. “I know.. I’ve just already taken up so much of your time.” You mumble.

He smiles. “Believe me, if you weren’t here, I’d be bored out of my mind.” He laughs. You smile but he can see how distant you’ve grown.

“You know.. I uh.. I’ve been thinking.” He mumbles.

You turn to look at him, blinking when you realize just how close he is to you. He turns himself, left arm over the couch still, right hand resting on your thigh.

Why the hell is he so close to you?

He slides his hand further up your thigh, hearing the breath you let out as he pushes it.

“W-what are doing?” You look at him.

He’s leaning into you, eyes dark. His lips just barely brush over yours.

You slide away from him, standing up. You take him off guard. “No offense Phillip, but I can smell the beer on you from here. Okay? I think you’ve had too much to drink.” You breathe. Your voice is unsteady, something he’s never heard before. You sound so unsure. Before he has any time to explain himself, you rush to the guest room.

He sighs to himself.

Shit.

He follows after you, grasping the door handle but you’ve locked the door.

“Y/N, open the door.”

You stand up, backing yourself into a wall on the opposite side. “No Phillip, I don’t think it’s a good idea.” You breathe.

“Y/N.” He takes in a deep breath. “You don’t want to make me mad.”

“Please- I don’t want to open it. You’re scaring me.”

He swallows hard, stepping back.

“I.. I wasn’t trying scare you, love.” You can see that he’s back tracking.

“I can see how distant you’re getting from me already and I hate it, you know. I feel selfish for but I want you to stay here.”

You stay quiet.

“Feel like I’m talking to a door here.” He laughs.

You open it, catching him off guard.

You step back when he comes in. “Why do you want me to stay?” You ask.

“I like having you around, you know? You’re a sweet girl and when you’re around it’s like you’re not even here. You’re quiet and sweet.” He breathes. “And by the way, I’ve had 2 beers. Not even buzzed.” He laughs. You swallow hard.

“S-so.. out there. What were you…” you look up at him. He laughs, looking down. “Well. I was going to kiss you. But you panicked a little bit.” He smirks.

You’re stunned.

Staring back at him in complete disbelief because Phillip had made it so clear that he was not interested in you like that in any way.

He moves closer, pushing your hair back out of your face. “Would you be okay with that? If I kissed you?” He asks.

You look up at him. Nodding your head.

So he does. He grips your throat and holds you in place as he presses his lips to yours. You gasp when he steps closer, his body presses up against yours. He deepens the kiss, teeth knocking into yours with how hard he kisses you and before you have a moment to react, he’s backing you into the bed. He breaks apart from you only to let you fall back into it.

“Shit.” He hisses, gripping his cock through his jeans. He’s turned on.

“I want to take this further but I want you to be comfortable.” He groans. “I’m.. I’m fine Phillip.” You breathe. He takes a deep breath, thinking about his next move and what it will be.

Are you ready for this? To take him?

Do you even know what Phillip is capable of? The things that he’s done?

Of course you don’t. And he’s not going to tell you, because you aren’t ready just yet.

“Take your shirt off.” The words leave his lips before he realizes it.

You do it, no hesitation. Because you listen to him. Out of respect or fear, he doesn’t know.

His lips are pursed together, he’s deep in thought as he draws his fingertips over yours stomach. Back and forth over your belly button. Phillip is going to lose himself in you, how has he allowed this to happen? He told himself he wouldn’t.

The look in your eyes as you stare up at him is what eggs him on.

He traces your stomach, down to the waistband of your pants. He pops open the button with one hand and helps you remove them. When you’re completely exposed to him, you’re nervous. You’d only been exposed like this once before and he’d hurt you.

His touches are gentle and quick. Merely traces as he decides his next step.

He stands up away from the bed, grasping his own shirt and sliding it over his head. His stomach is toned, he’s very fit. You tear your eyes away from him and he smiles. You’re overwhelmed already.

He works at his own jeans to remove them and when they’re off, he’s left in boxers. He slides them down, seeing the way your eyes draw down his form. He’s well endowed and while you know exactly what’s to come, you can’t help but be nervous. Your breaths are unsteady, you’re clearly nervous and he can sense it. He moves himself over the top of you. “It’s okay. You can trust me.”

Can I?

“Yes. Of course you can.”

You didn’t mean to say that out loud, shit.

He lowers himself to kiss you again, rocking himself into you. The only thing keeping him from you now is your panties. His bare cock brushes over your clothed opening, drawing a gasp from your lips. The feel of him alone was overwhelming. “It’s okay. Nothing to be nervous about.” He breathes. He rocks his hips into you, hearing you take in a sharp breath.

A wet patch starts to form on your panties and he knows what he’s doing is working. The more turned on you are, the more relaxed you’ll be.

He glides his fingertips over your shoulder and collarbones, pushing your hair off of your chest to expose your throat to him. He lowers his face into the crook of your neck, nudging your face to the side to kiss you. Teeth marking you as he grinds into you.

You feel like you’re about to explode when he tugs your panties to the side and sinks right inside of you.

He figures maybe the slow approach would hurt worse, at least the pain would last longer.

It pierces you.

The deep penetration not only catches you off guard but it hurts, it’s intense.

You cry out, and not a good one. He kisses you to silence you. Trying to soothe you as he takes no time to let you adjust. He draws back and pushes back inside, trying to even out the pain.

He finally stops, no longer moving to give you a moment to adjust.

He should’ve given you more time to change your mind but he couldn’t wait any longer.

You’ve calmed down, tear stains remain on your cheeks but they’re only watery now. He starts slow, just as before. Rocking his hips back and into you at the perfect pace to get you adjusted to him. When the pain subsides, it makes you realize just how full of him you were.

Just how much your body was taking.

A moan finally leaves your lips, realization hitting you like a ton of bricks and you wiggle out from under him slightly.

“Woah- hey. It’s alright.”

He tries to calm you. You’re panting, breathing hard. He’s raised himself off of you just slightly. Cock still partially buried into you. His body weight on you suddenly feels too much. Why is he doing this?

“Y/N.” He reaches out, drawing shapes with his fingertips into you once more.

“Why are you doing this?” You ask.

“Because.. I have feelings for you.”

You clench your eyes shut, moaning as he moves closer. Burying himself to the hilt once again.

“No you don’t, you never did before.” You close your eyes, whining as he draws back and thrusts back into you. “Yes I do.” He keeps a steady pace, talking you through it. It doesn’t feel good enough yet, you wouldn’t be able to form complete sentences like this if it were.

“I have from the beginning, I just knew it wasn’t right of me to do it. It’s still not. I just can’t take it anymore.” He breathes.

“I- oh god!” You cry, he feels really good all of a sudden.

“It’s okay. Look at me.” He forces your chin up, looking you deep in the eyes. “You’re distracting yourself from it. Don’t shy away now, let yourself feel it.”

Your eyes lower from his face to where the both of you connect. Where his cock glides out of you before he thrusts it back in. You’re shaking before you realize it.

Panting out his name, it feels good.

“That’s my girl.. doing so good for me now honey.” He breathes, moaning out. He’s trying to keep himself together but you’re tight on him. He slides so easily because you’re so wet. “You’re so good darling, so so good. Oh fuck-“ he nearly whimpers it. A side of him you hadn’t seen.

A side of him you want to see forever.

You’re getting close, you can tell by the uneasy feeling growing in your lower stomach, like butterflies but unstable. He picks up the pace, holding your hips down and taking deeper thrusts into you. “Phillip, I think I-“ your lips part in a gasp and he lowers his hand to rub your clit until you reach your peak around him. Your cries pierce his ears and he can’t contain his unsteady moans as he thrusts his hips into you, reaching that wall. His cock pulses with his orgasm, you can feel him cum inside of you, the pressure finally being released. Your eyes widen when you realize what he’s just done.

“It’s okay.” He breathes. “Nothing to worry about.”

He rests his head on your chest for a second, trying to regain composure.

He can’t believe how bad he’d lost it while inside you. When he’s come down from his high, he slides out of you, seeing you flinch.

“You alright?” He asks.

You nod your head. “Yeah. You just caught me off guard that’s all.” He laughs.

“It’ll be alright. But I’m serious. Stay here with me. Save your money for something else and stay.”

“But Phillip that’s not-“

He presses his finger to your lips. “I’m a lonely man, you won’t leave me here all alone will you?” He smiles.

You smile. “Alright, fine. I’ll stay.”

[after-witch]

Oh What a Birthday Surprise [wri0thesley’s OC Lucas x Reader

Title: Oh What a Birthday Surprise [@wri0thesley's OC Lucas x Reader]

Synopsis: You want to surprise Lucas on his birthday.

Word count: 2841

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, abuse

Lucas is not much for celebrating his birthday. 

You know this, not from experience but only because he mentioned it to you, when you’d finally asked--soft, tentative--when he was born. It wasn’t that you truly needed to know--but details were good, especially if you thought you wanted them.

Technically speaking, the question was asked out of that self-preserving politeness that you’ve begun to hone so keenly in order to keep yourself appealing; to keep yourself alive.

Still. Something about the way he mumbled it, the way he confessed that he never paid it no mind. It made something twist inside you. Some curdled bit of pity.

Your own birthdays… before… had been wonderful, delightful affairs. Filled with friends and noise and laughter.

Your friends would take you out shopping, to some excursion, and end with dinner. Sometimes they even planned overnight trips so everyone could squeeze every last ounce of fun from the event. The evenings would end with cake and candles and everyone drunkenly scream-singing “Happy Birthday!” before you all dug in.

Your last birthday had not been quite so grand, though you wouldn’t say Lucas didn’t do his best. He bought a cake in town, and got you some fresh notebooks that you’d asked for (completely new, from the drugstore--oh, to have a notebook without someone else’s scribbles inside it, someone else’s desperate scrawls for help-help-help!) and even some new books. 

Well, used. But new to the cabin, and that was all you wanted.

He let you watch one of the few movies he’d procured that weren’t Westerns. A romantic comedy  that you used to binge-watch on VHS during summer break from school. He was gentler, that night, in bed; more focused on your own pleasure than pounding inside you, as he sometimes did when he got overwhelmingly smitten.

It was a nice day, all things considered.

Maybe that’s why you decided to make his birthday as nice as you could. Within reason, within your severe limitations. Yet there was a nagging thought: what if he told you not to? What if he waved you away if you asked him what he wanted for his birthday?

What if, what if, what if. Maybe those little what-ifs were why some little impulsive imp in your head told you to make it a true-blue surprise. He might not make a fuss over his birthday, but he couldn’t object to you going the extra mile if he didn’t know about it.

There’d be no twisting in your gut if he waved away attempts to find out what he wanted, or sternly told you to leave his birthday alone. No sighs, no slamming of the door leading to the backyard, just a delightful smile and a pat on your head for being so sweet.

Right?

Right.

--

You have to be sneaky. But life with Lucas, by design, makes this difficult. When you stretch your arms and stand up from the sofa with the intent of going into the spare room to work on your gift, he wants to know where you’re going and why you don’t want him to follow and how long you’ll be good.

And you can’t tell him, exactly, that you’re going to work on the handmade scrapbook you’ve decided to give him. Sketches of the cabin, of the chickens, of nature outside the bedroom window. Of him, listening to his record player, a glass of whiskey in his hand. 

An almost serene expression on his face, caught before he turned and saw you staring, and stammered something about not staying up too late.

It’s really a ridiculous book. An overly cloying, sentimental thing that only a parent should enjoy (and even then, it would swiftly find itself relegated to the inside of a drawer once childhood faded); but you think Lucas won’t mind the saccharine, homemade nature of it all.

If you could just keep it a secret for two more weeks, anyway.

--

You’re hunched over the worn-out sitting chair in the spare room, adding some color to one of your birthday sketches, when a sudden heavy prickling presence crawls over your back--

Lucas clears his throat and you practically jump, colored pencil nearly stabbing the paper as you bring the book up to your chest.

“Lucas!” Your voice cracks. “I didn’t see you there. I thought--you said you’d be out with the chickens.” It was the perfect opportunity, you’d decided, to get some more work done on the book. With Lucas outside, there was less of a chance that he’d see--that he’d snoop.

So you thought.

It’s hard to make out his expression too clearly, from this distance. It had been two years now since your last eye exam, and you were sure you needed a new prescription. The thought of bringing up such a request with Lucas made you feel sick, so you didn’t. He’d just say no, wouldn’t he?

“Darlin,” he begins, voice low, almost hesitant. “What’re you doin’ in here? Thought I said you should tidy up the living room for me.”

“I did--” You stammer out the lie, stupidly, then correct yourself. “I mean--I was going to, after. I just had to do… something… and then…” The words curl up with your tongue, lying limp as you even from here, you can see his eyebrows start to furrow.

“You know I don’t like lyin’. Ain’t ladylike.” The admonition makes your stomach flip, and you claw desperately to steer everything in a more acceptable direction.

Setting your book away, sketch-side down so he doesn’t see, you stand up and fold your hands prettily together in front of you.

“I’m sorry, Lucas,” you begin, voice quieter, more mousey. “I should have tidied up like you said. I just got… too eager to draw, and--” Your mind fights for what he might want you to say, and comes up with little else than contrition. “I won’t do it again. I’m sorry.”

Lucas frowns. You can see that, even from here. Can feel it, really, in the air. 

Eventually, the tension in him loosens. Enough for the knot in your stomach to unwind a little, at least.

“Mind you don’t, darlin’,” is all he says, an edge at the tip of his words, before he gestures for you to follow--no doubt to tidy up the living room like you should have done in the first place.

Working on the book will have to wait until you can get him in a better mood.

--

Two days.

There are only two days left until Lucas’ birthday, and you’re quietly thanking God (if he really exists–you’re torn on that idea, now) for that because: one, there is a small sense of pleasurable curiosity at imagining how Lucas will react to your gift and two, two being the most important of these two factors: your nerves are just about shot. 

Lucas can tell something is up. You’ve been skimping on chores, running to the spare room before bed instead of waiting in the bedroom or living room while he finished up some outdoor evening chores, throwing out excuses when he catches you and asks what you were doing and why you didn’t tell him you were going to be in here. 

Each time seems to stretch something harder between you–some awful sort of tension that you hope will melt away as soon as he gets the book. 

Dinner was quiet, but not the comfortable, homey kind that Lucas sometimes enjoys. There was a thin string plucking against your chest the entire meal, as you placed forkful after forkful of food in your mouth. Meat, vegetables, the usual style of homespun dinner he enjoys and you’ve learned to eat without question.

All that is left tonight is dessert, a slice of blueberry pie you made with a heaping spoonful of ice cream on top, the edges of it melting against your plate as you try to discern if Lucas is angry with you or merely tired from splitting wood in preparation for the upcoming fall.

“Darlin.” 

 Your spoon trembles against the edge of the ice cream, and you set it down.

“Yes?”

When you flutter your lashes and look up at him, Lucas has his face set. Firm. Unyielding. You wonder if you did something truly awful and run a checklist through your mind–you kissed him good morning without a reminder, let him dress you without getting huffy about it, did your chores, set the table, chewed with your mouth closed, ate everything on your plate–and nothing stands out too much.

It’s worse, actually, to not have something to hold yourself accountable for in the face of his apparent irritation.

“You’ve been… quiet lately,” he says, finally, slow, picking his words carefully. “Like you got a secret.”

The food in your stomach feels as hard as a rock, and a low stomach cramp makes sweat bead on the back of your neck. 

You could tell him. Confess it all, right here, right now. Yes, you’ve been quiet and sneaky and weird–because you’re working on a stupid little gift and you thought it would be a good idea because you’re a great big moron.

But… the surprise would be ruined and there’s something awful about being so close to his birthday and giving up on the idea. You can make it through two more days, can’t you? The book is technically done, anyway. You’ve only got to wrap it, and you’re sure you saw some gift wrap in the back of the closet in the spare room. 

So you, divine actress you sometimes imagine you are, swallow hard and try to look demure and apologetic and weak. (You are, in truth, in the face of Lucas and axes and freezers of meat, one of these things.)

“I’ve… I’ve been really tired lately.” You flutter your lashes. “I haven’t been falling asleep right away and… I just didn’t want to worry you. I’m sorry.” 

Sorry, sorry, sorry, a word that flies from your lips so often nowadays, and Lucas seems to eat it up as heartily as he does his meals.

His voice is still gruff, though, and he still frowns despite the slight edge of a worried coo in his voice.

“You need an earlier bedtime, then. And no more extra sugar, least ‘till you start sleepin’ better.” His hand pulls away your pie plate, ice cream uneaten, and he sets about covering the plate with plastic to set in the freezer for some undetermined later date when dessert will be returned to you.

A shame–you really wouldn’t have minded eating ice cream tonight. 

--

Normally, Lucas’ grip on you is as tight as a vice. It was something you worried about, the last few nights, as you debated on how you were going to surprise Lucas with his gift. Ideally, you’d grab it before he woke up, so you could surprise him in bed. It would be more fun that way, more like something they do in the movies.

On this morning though, the morning of his birthday, his arm is not squeezing you like a particularly well-loved teddy bear but simply sprawled loosely across your chest; so loose that you can wiggle out from underneath it.

Which you do, slowly, one eye on him, sure that he’ll wake up with every inch you get. He doesn’t. His eyes stay closed and his mouth stays slack and eventually you reach the end of the bed, thrilled at your blessings, and silently step onto the floor in triumph.

Even then, you keep an eye on him as you creep as quietly as you can–homemade floorboards do love to creak–to the bedroom door. It opens too loudly, and you cringe; but Lucas stays asleep and your stomach flips with excitement as you make it into the hallway and down to the spare room.

You almost want to hum by the time you’re rifling through the closet, but catch yourself before you make too much noise. The book is right where you left it, hidden away in the closet underneath the faded lilac of a jaggedly unfinished crochet blanket.

The wrapping paper is shiny and smooth as you clutch the gift in your hands, a soft, almost stupid little smile on your face, and you turn to–

To find Lucas standing in the doorway, a hulking form, an axe slung over his shoulder, his expression a slightly blurred mask of betrayal and rage. 

There are thoughts in your head. Oh, yes there are. Short, simple.

Oh, you think. It’s Lucas.

Oh, you think. He has an axe.

And “Oh,” is what you say as it all clicks together, as there is an imaginative flash of him bringing the axe down on your skull, as you realize that he is going to kill you and it’s going to really, really fucking hurt. Your stomach clenches and there’s something warm running down your leg and your thoughts spin, desperate to think about something nice before it all ends–

And maybe.

Maybe there is a God after all, or just sheer dumb luck, because Lucas does not spring forward and bring the axe down in the middle of your face. Instead he seems to flinch, seeing the colorful purple-and-gold wrapping paper shimmering in the morning light creeping through the window, a shiny package clutched in your trembling hands.

It’s his turn, now, for “Oh.” His mouth forms a circle over the words, savoring them like cake. “Oh, darlin.’” The snarl turns into a trembling smile, something soft and intimate and almost new to his expression. “You… for my birthday?”

You’re not dead, you realize, eyes still frozen on the axe he’s holding. You’re not dead, because you can still speak. “Yes,” you said, wheezing. “I-I wanted to surprise you. For your birthday. I thought… thought that might be okay.”

“Darlin,” he says, softly, almost unbelieving. “‘Course it’d be okay. You think I’d say no to anything you make me? To you thinking ‘bout me so sweetly?” 

You don’t answer, and his gaze finally follows your own–the axe still slung against his shoulder, the handle gripped in his palm–and he looks almost sheepish as he steps back into the hall, hefts the axe back onto the wall, and comes back in the room with an almost shy smile on his face. 

There is even, just visible in the morning light, a blush deepening the color on his cheeks.

Like he’s pleased and embarrassed and like he didn’t intend to just bash in your face with the sharp end of an axe, like he wasn’t going to grind you into hamburger for a Friday night dinner, like he wasn’t about to end your life.

He steps forward, and it takes everything inside you, every bit of strength you’ve tried to build over your captivity, to not flinch as he embraces you, present squishing against your chest.

“You’re the sweetest thing I’ve ever known. No one’s ever made such a fuss for me on my birthday. ‘Cept you. You know that, honey?”

It is a testament to your carefully constructed layers, mud and slime hardened to protect you, that you do not let the internal scream pass your lips. You shove it down with the other reactions where it belongs--where it must be, if you want to live.

Still, you can’t speak. Not yet. You whimper something–in fear, in agreement, all mixing together in the moment. 

Lucas pets the back of your head, smiling down at you. He almost looks lost in love, in wonder. “Wouldn’t hurt you, sweetheart,” he continues, just as kindly. “Not as long as you never give me a reason to. You know that, don’tcha?” 

You nod, obedient spouse that you are, through the prickling tears that make him coo and wipe his thumb near your eyes.

He presses himself against you, and murmurs.

“If you ever left me, darlin’, why--I just couldn’t take it. Just couldn’t take it,” he repeats, holding you tighter. Kisses are pressed against the top of your head, and you feel him breathing through his nose, slower and slower. Like he’s the one who just had the fright of his life. 

Eventually, he pulls away, not before pressing a soft kiss to your lips. He’s got morning breath and so do you, but at least he didn’t kill you, so there’s no point in complaining. 

If Lucas feels any particular way about the damp patch against your nightgown, about the small puddle of urine on the cabin floor, by-products of seeing your own death in the doorway, he says nothing about it.

He’s kind enough to simply put his arm around your shoulder, your own arms still clutching the gift, and begin guiding you out of the room. 

“Thank you for thinking of me, honey. Let’s just… get ourselves cleaned up and I’ll open my present. I bet it’s something real special.”

He doesn’t stop smiling as he leads you into the bathroom–he won’t stop smiling all morning, in fact. 

Next year, you will simply ask him what he’d like for his birthday instead. 

[inmymagnetoera]

regarding my last post, here are some headcanons for High Schoolers!Cherik.

Erik:

-Rides a motorbike

-seen as a bad boy by all the teachers and the parents of his classmates, but he is the second best in the class.

-he's a hothead, he was suspended once for hitting a boy for no reason (actually it was because he pushed Charles, but he never told anyone)

-For some time he had a sort of internalized homophobia, but over time he started to accepts himself.

-He fell in love with Charles after meeting him at a party at a friend's house.

-His best friends are Azazel (older than the others) Janos and Emma. All three ride motorbikes like him and met thanks to this.

-The main topic of the arguments with Charles is his motorbike, to earn some money Erik takes part in clandestine races and Charles is always afraid he might get hurt.

-had had many other experiences (girls and boys) before Charles.

Charles:

-Model and rich student, everyone wants to be his friend.

-initially he was afraid of Erik, he always looked at him and always made fun of him, but at the party he realized that he liked him.

-It was initially more difficult for Charles to become attached to Erik, but in the end he realized that he loved him.

-He likes ridin Erik's motorbike, but they often argue about racing.

-Their relationship almost ended after Erik beat up a boy at a party for hitting on Charles, but Erik showed up in front of his house (His stepfather almost called the police) to ask for forgiveness.

-He kissed Erik first, in the school bathroom, running away immediately afterwards.

-Charles' friends (Hank, Alex, Moira, Raven etc..) are not very supportive of the relationship, but they know that Erik would do anything to protect him.

-He had other experiences before, but only girls.

-everyone believes that Erik is the possessive one (it's true) But Charles doesn't joke: if some girl or boy hits on Erik, he won't hesitate to intervene in the conversation and climb on him like a koala.

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

Can you pleaseee write female reader and duff just brutal smut😭🙏 I had a dream but woke up too soon to finish it

Also love your writing smm

A/n: I know you said just brutal smut and it started that way but then it morphed into this 😞

Warnings: smut, car sex, semi public sex, size kink, if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

You were never that big on punk, your parents took you to church every Sunday, you got good grades and you babysat around your neighbourhood. Your friend, on the other hand, loved rock, she was the polar opposite of you.

People questioned how you stayed together, you wondered yourself sometimes, but you'd known each other for years and were practically tied at the hip.

It was Friday, you had work time in your English class and your friend was leaning over to your desk beside hers.

"It's Friday." She said, a grin spread over her face. You nodded, watching her closely a moment as you knew what she was getting at. "There's a band I really want to show you."

You rolled your eyes at her. "I'm not going to a rock show."

"It's not rock." She whined. "It's punk." She laughed at the look you gave her. "Come on, you can come over and borrow some of my clothes, it'll be fun! Just one night."

You knew you should say no, these shows were in bars and creepy late, but she gave you those puppy dog eyes you couldn't say no to.

You walked back to her house after school, she helped you pick out an outfit from her closet. The night was already starting out of your comfort zone but her encouragement made it better, it was good to push your boundaries.

Ripped up, tattered old pants, a cut off band shirt she made herself, and since it was cold she leant you a patchwork jacket. You didn't even try to touch the makeup, letting her make a masterpiece out of you.

You liked the finished product, it just didn't look like you, but she seemed so happy so you didn't mind and followed her out of her house and to the pub.

Getting in was easy, no one cared who was or wasn't of age and you didn't plan on drinking so you wouldn't have issues with the bartender.

"This is 10 Minute Warning." She said, yelling in your ear so you could hear her over the loud music and people thrashing in the pit, though the whole floor was technically the pit.

They all looked like losers to you, especially the blue haired guitarist who kept looking over at you. You lost your friend in the crowd so you sat at the bar close to the door to catch her if she left.

You weren't a fan of the music or the crowd, but the bartender was giving you free soda's and everyone was polite enough to leave you alone, maybe flash you a smile.

The night dragged on and you were getting tired and annoyed, head feeling like it was going to explode. You wanted to go and find your friend but you knew that as soon as you left this spot she was going to walk right past you and leave. So you stayed put and just hoped she would find you.

The band got off the small stage, you didn't pay much attention to them as another band got on, more people flooding the room only aiding in making it harder for you to find your friend.

You were turned to face the doors, staring at them as you waited for your friend. You spun around when you felt a tap on your shoulder, thinking it was her but instead it the guitarist.

He was smiling friendly enough at you, his eyes were bright as he greeted you. "I, uh, I'm Duff." He said, holding a hand out for you to shake.

You hesitated but took his hand nonetheless. "Duff?" You asked, raising a brow at him. "Is that, like, your real name?" You pulled your hand away from his.

He stared at you a moment. "Michael." He said. "Michael McKagan, but there's a lot of Michaels in my neighbourhood so we have nicknames." He explained, resting his elbow on the bar.

You gave a small nod, at least there was a reason for it for the name. You introduced yourself and he kept talking, hoping you’d listen even though he saw you staring off into the crowd.

Duff paused, staring at you a moment before he turned to the crowded room. “What does your friend look like?” He asked. You let out a heavy sigh and described her as best you could. “I, uh, I saw her leave a while ago.” He lied, he just wanted your attention which now snapped to him.

“She what?” You asked, brows raised.

“I could drive you around, help you look for her?” He offered, hopping off the barstool and holding a hand out for you to take.

You hesitated a moment, you didn’t know if he had a license, if he could drive. Hell, you didn’t know if he even had a car, but you needed to find your friend so you went with him.

Despite whatever you thought of him he was a gentleman, holding doors open for you, helping you into an old car that he had the actual key to so you trusted it was his, if he was going to steal a car sure enough it would be nicer than this piece of junk.

You scanned the area while he drove, looking for any sign of your friend. You knew she’d probably be fine but you wanted to be sure of it before you went home.

Duff could tell that you were tired and worried. He reached over and placed a hand on your thigh, rubbing it soothingly.

You glanced down at his hand, how small you were in comparison. “What are you doing?” You asked, knowing you should get his hand off of you but it was warm. Really, it wasn’t that bad…

Duffs gaze flickered to you before returning to the road ahead. “Just, um… you look tired, you can sleep, you know? I-I won’t do anything, I’m not like that.” He assured, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your bare skin.

You thought for a long moment. It had been a long night, Duff was nicer than most others, despite your previous perceptions of him. You’d spent your whole life being good, getting good grades, going to church, this that and the other thing and yet right now, sitting in a strangers car with his hand on your thigh… you felt happy, really happy.

“Actually…” You started, turning back was still an option, you knew that. Still, you kept going. “Could you do something?”

Duff raised a brow at that. “What do you want me to do?”

You looked out the window. You were beside an empty park, no one was out at this time, it was perfect.

“Pull over.” You said, already shimmying out of your skirt. Duffs face flushed when he saw what you were doing. He listened and pulled up to the curb, taking his hand off your thigh to do so.

“Now what?” He asked, keeping his hands on the wheel as he looked to you.

The reality of what was about to happen finally hit you and you tensed up. “Um… what-what do you normally do..?” You asked hesitantly.

He stared at you a moment. “I don’t think, um…” he trailed. Before he could finish your lips were on his, hand on his shoulder and pulling him closer.

Duff was quick to unbuckle his seatbelt, then reaching over to do yours. You wriggled out of the rest of your clothes while he reclined your seat. He pulled his shirt off and undid his jeans, pushing them down just enough for his half hard cock to spring free.

You eyed his pinkish member. “Is it, uh, are-are they always that big..?” Your voice was barely there as you asked the question.

Duff felt something rising in his chest at that, you were innocent and shy. He swallowed thickly before responding. “No, I’m just…” He trailed, eyes traveling over your soft skin. “Just sit still, let me know if you wanna stop, or something.” His words were mumbled as he moved.

He pulled you down the seat, the car was small and it forced him to cage you against the seat. His knees pushed on the leather, he had a hand on your hip and his other arm went around your waist, holding you to him.

You were so small compared to him, fitting perfectly in the seat whereas his knees were always in his chest.

He moved his tip through your folds, gathering your wetness to use as lube. Clearly this was doing something for you, how vulnerable you were to him, like a bunny with a wolf.

He pushed into you without warning and you squealed, eyes screws shut at the sharp pain from him stretching out your innocent hole. “Duff-! Just-just wait!” You begged, gripping his arms tightly, looking up at him with wide, pleading eyes.

He nodded, leaning down and kissing along your neck. “Tell me when you’re ok.” He muttered, placing sweet kisses on your sensitive skin.

You tried focusing on your breathing but it was hard, and it only got worse when the pain subsided and all you could think about what how good he felt.

His hips bucked, drawing a soft moan from you. “That sounds ok.” He mumbled, more to himself than to you. “Can-can I move now?” He was having a harder time not moving the longer he stayed still in you, squeezed by your gummy walls.

“Please…” You squeaked out, looking up at him with a pout. He didn’t waste a second, thrusting into you hard and deep, though he didn’t go all too fast, wanting to savour this moment.

The car shook with every roll of his hips, the small space filling with your moans and his low grunts.

As much as he tried to go slow for you, and for himself, he couldn’t take it much longer. He swallowed thickly, pushing a few strands of your hair out of your face. “Fuck, you’re so pretty just like that.” He mused, looking over you, though he refused to let his gaze go too low.

“Duff,” you started, eyes filled with a sense of worry, “it-it feels weird.” His movements didn’t stop but they did slow.

He lifted himself up as best he could taking in the bulge he made in your stomach, the way you kept sucking him back it, how you stretched around his veiny girth. “Good weird?” He asked, calloused hand trailing down your side before pressing his palm down flat on the lump.

You nodded, exasperated. You looked down to the bulge made from his cock, eyes widening slightly. It only fuelled him on even more and his thrusts got faster. His hands were on your hips, holding your with a bruising grip as his hips bucked into you.

He was needy and desperate and your moans were all he could hear, you were all he could see, his only focus.

His movements got harsher, he was rutting into you like a dog. He wasn’t that experienced, really, usually he was high and let the woman he was with do the work. He wanted to be closer to you, he wanted to go deeper.

Duff wrapped his arms around you, holding as close as he could get to you, forcing your back to bend while he humped into you, tip hitting a new angle, one that had you seeing stars.

You moaned loudly, eyes rolling back as you came, clenching around him and milking him as he emptied himself inside you with a few low groans in your ear.

Duff swallowed thick, slowly pulling away and looking down at your spent body, chest rising and falling with each heavy breath.

Your gaze flickered over him, eyes fluttering and struggling to stay open. Duff smiled tiredly down at you and moved you into a different position. He pushed the seat back as far as it would go and held you on top of him, letting you use him as a sort of mattress.

He rubbed your back and kissed the top of your head, your forehead and temple, wherever he could reach without disturbing you too much. He pulled his jacket over you to use as a blanket and keep you warm, not that it was an especially cold night.

He stayed buried in you for the night, preferring those chances over cleaning dried cum from his seats.

[lillaydee]

The Unlucky One Part 12

Joel Miller (No Outbreak AU) / F Reader

When it comes to love, Lady Luck seems to have lost your address. After being left at the altar without so much of an explanation, you decided love is no longer something you are interested in. Not even meeting an unlucky-in-love-himself Mr. Grump could change your mind.

Right?

Let me know if you want to be tagged, or if you want to be removed from the tag list.

WARNINGS: Protective Joel (The Last of Us), Good Parent Joel (The Last of Us), Soft Joel (The Last of Us), Joel is Bad at Feelings (The Last of Us), Joel Needs a Hug (The Last of Us), Hurt Joel (The Last of Us), Grumpy Joel (The Last of Us), Jealousy, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Idiots in Love, unlucky in love, Child Abandonment, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Alternate Universe - No Cordyceps Outbreak (The Last of Us)

@peelieblue, @vickie5446, @harriedandharassed, @lovefreylove @martuxduckling @kikookii @liciafonseca @wowitsafemale @noisynightmarepoetry

SERIES MASTER LIST

Part 11

---

***WARNING***

Implied sexual assault and child pornography ahead. Also, some vague descriptions of a murder.

“I had to, Aria,” she told you. “I had no other choice.”

You sat across from her, a police officer standing right behind you, just in case.

“I know you hate me. I know that. I hate me too. But I needed you to hear this from me.”

You didn’t move, didn’t react. You just listened.

**********

Mother never let Nell forget she was adopted. The day she was brought home, the car ride was filled with Mother reminding her that no one wanted her, that she should count herself lucky to have someone as good as her to take such an unwanted girl in. You will want for nothing, she had told Nell. You will have everything you had ever wanted. Mother’s got you.

Nell had been excited to see you when they got home. She finally had a sibling! You were nice to her. Tried to play with her, talk to her at the beginning. But no, Mother warned her that you were deranged, not right in the head, that you may seem all sweet, but you were pure evil on the inside. That you had turned your grandparents against her, that you turned your father against her. You would turn everyone against her too.

It didn’t take long for Nell to believe her. You would disappear to your Dad’s, and Mother would tell her that it was because you didn’t want to see her face. Every time you came back, you would have new clothes and books and toys, all of which she really wanted, but Mother told her they didn’t have the money to get them. She believed Mother back then but would get sad that she didn’t have the nice things you did. So Mother took them from you and gave them to her. Mother stopped her from talking to Grandpa, telling her he was just like you, someone who pretended to be nice to her face but really hated her and didn’t want her around, just like everyone else. Mother was the only one who loved her, wanted her. She made sure she was the only person Nell trusted.

Nell grew up thinking Mother was right. That you had started dating Kyle simply because she liked him, to stop her from getting him. That you pushed Kyle into liking boys because you didn’t want her to be with him, just like you didn’t want your Dad to be with Mother. She liked your other boyfriends too, so Mother taught her what to do when they came around, so that they would like her instead of you. They never came around again. Again, Mother whispered to her that you had hid them away from her, just so she couldn’t get them. She had some boys at school she liked, but Mother told her those boys were boys. She shouldn’t be with boys. She should be with men. Mother introduced her to the men she would sometimes bring home, but those men left after a few minutes, angry at Mother for some reason. Mother would be angry after, and Nell was terrified Mother would throw her out. So she tried her best to get the men to like her, but none of them did, for some reason.

Mother never let her have any friends. She took Nell out of school once she started making friends. She didn’t need anyone, Mother told her. All she needed was Mother. Mother would make sure she had everything and everyone she needed.

When you started seeing Eric, Mother wouldn’t stop talking about him, how she had seen him around town with you, how tall and handsome he was, how perfect he would be for Nell. How he was wasted on someone like you. He was going to be a doctor, so Nell would be set for life with him. So Mother asked her to do one thing when Eric finally visited, told her what to say, what to do. She did as Mother asked, but Eric left too. The day you and Eric left, Mother brought a man home to help Nell feel better. She hated that man, hated the way his breath smelled, hated how he hurt her, hated how he touched her. That man stopped coming after a while, and Mother was angry again. So she went along with Mother’s plans to get Eric to stay. She knew Mother lied about the baby, but she was excited to marry Eric. He’s nice. Surely he would love her once they married, that’s what married people do, they love each other. And then they could have a real baby and live happily ever after.

But Eric didn’t love her. He hid from her. He never even talked to her. He stayed in your room, and she hers. Pushed her away every time she tried to touch him. Nell didn’t dare tell Mother this, worried that Mother would call her a bad wife. So she lied to Mother, telling her that she and Eric did get together. But the reality was, he acted like she and Mother didn’t exist. Eric only talked to you, sometimes. Only ate what you brought him. He ignored Mother too. Nell saw, even heard Mother trying to get with Eric sometimes. She heard him yell at her, calling her a pervert and a vile woman. Eric got angrier and angrier over time, not even looking at her. He was basically just another presence in the house, one that existed in your room and walked in and out of the house like a ghost, very rarely seen or heard.

Nell believed mother when she said you had influenced Eric to hate you and her, that his rejecting of her and Mother was all your doing. Eric entertained her that night, it was clear he wanted her, he even agreed to marry her, so he must have loved her. But you got to him, she said, you made him hate her. It wasn’t her, it was you.  

Mother was extremely angry when Grandpa died. Grandpa had been giving Mother money every month. But when he died, he left all his money and properties to you, and none for her and Nell. She told Nell that this was proof that you had been pouring poison in Grandpa’s ears all along. She was plotting something, something to get Grandpa’s money back from you. But it didn’t seem to work. She got angrier and angrier at you, blaming you for the hard life that was going to befall the two of them.

But then, you left, and never came back. Nell realized then how wrong she had been all this time. That she had trusted the wrong person.

Mother changed. Without you to be angry at, Nell became her target. Everything became her fault. She brought men after men home, and Nell had to entertain them, even if she didn’t want to. They paid Mother money after. She told Mother she didn’t want to do it anymore. They hurt her. But Mother hit her, telling her she was an ingrate. Hadn’t Mother always kept her safe? Hadn’t she clothed and sheltered and fed her all this while? Hadn’t she taken her in when no one else wanted her? It’s time to pay her dues now. They didn’t have any income coming in. Money didn’t grow on trees. The money Grandma left her will run out, and Mother needed her to contribute to the household, for once in her life.

So Nell obeyed. She didn’t have a choice. She knew no one. She tried to get Eric to help, but he was never around. He came home really late at night and left really early in the morning. Mother watched her like a hawk, making sure she never tried to tell Eric anything. She even slipped a note under his door once, but Mother caught her and beat her black and blue. So she never tried again.

After months of this, her period stopped. Mother told Eric the happy news, implying he was the father. Mother didn’t know that Eric had never touched her. She believed her when she told her they did have sex when Mother was asleep or away. Eric had no idea about the other men, Mother made sure of that. She must have thought Eric would step up. He was a good guy, after all.

But the next day, Eric left and never came back. Mother was furious. But after a while, she realized that Eric was no longer a hurdle to hide her secret income generator. She brought more and more guys home, sometimes men would line up for their turn with her. Mother didn’t stop even when her belly got bigger and bigger. Mother forced her to work days after she gave birth. Nell never healed properly from her birth after that, having trouble walking properly as a result. The only happiness Nell had was when everyone had gone home, and she was alone with Ellie in her room, the innocent baby making her happy, and for once in her life she understood what love really was, that she would never do to Ellie what Mother was doing to her, what Mother did to you.

When Ellie turned two and was old enough to walk and talk, Mother began taking pictures of Ellie. Nell didn’t know what the pictures were for, but she didn’t like it. Whenever Ellie threw a tantrum, not wanting to have her pictures taken, or was hungry or tired, Mother beat her too. Nell began locking Ellie up, not letting Ellie out of her sight. Whenever she had customers, she locked Ellie in her closet as she worked in the very same room. That was the only way she could think of to make sure Ellie was safe, at least she was there, and not outside with Mother and the strange men. She locked Ellie in the closet at night to sleep too, worried that Mother would take her.

But soon, the men began to dwindle. Mother was angry at Nell, telling her she should’ve done more, made sure the men remain interested. Nights without customers became more and more common, and on those nights, Nell and Ellie were locked in her room without food or water.

A man came to the house one day. He talked to Mother for a while, Mother telling him something or other, crying and sobbing to him. Nell thought he was just another customer, but he wasn’t there for that. She didn’t know what the man wanted. She only saw him because Ellie had run downstairs while the man was there. Mother had taken Ellie by the hand and introduced her to the man, and Nell saw red, snatching Ellie from her and running upstairs to hide her in the closet.

The next week, more men came to the house, this time to yell and shout at Mother, demanding money from her. She didn’t know why. But Mother went out after they left and came back with a van. She told Nell they needed to leave. The men were dangerous. Nell packed what little she and Ellie had and left with Mother. Much as she hated her life with Mother in it, Mother and Ellie was all she had. She didn’t know anyone else.

They lived in that van from that day on, going to different parts of the town every day, Mother all jittery and nervous. The day they left the house, Mother saw your Dad’s car at his old office and went out to see him. She saw him yell at your Dad, Eric’s name mixed in somewhere as she attacked him with her words. All she could see in your Dad’s face was pity. He pitied her. He looked at Nell, and she saw the pity in his eyes intensified.

Whatever Mother said to him must have affected him. Mother told her your Dad gave her some money, and they drove out of town, stopping every now and again to use the bathroom and buy food. Sometimes, Mother would stop somewhere and forced Nell to work. Once, she made Ellie go to a complete stranger to beg for money. Nell locked Ellie in her toy chest, not wanting to expose Ellie to anything like that. Mother was angry but couldn’t do anything about it. Nell may be weak, but she would do anything to make sure Ellie remained safe, and Mother knew that.

Mother received a phone call one day, and immediately drove to Austin. When Nell saw you again, she saw how stable your life was. You had a nice house, perhaps a nice job. How happy you were, how many people loved you. She understood then that all this while, her jealousy of you wasn’t because you had more things given to you, it was because people loved you. Your dads, Grandpa, Kyle, Ethan, Maria, Eric. Even your ex boyfriends loved you. Good people. Not people like Mother. She saw how people rallied around you, how they all wanted to protect you.

That little girl loved you, she yelled at Mother for threatening you. She wondered if Ellie would ever do that for her. If Ellie even loved her. She knew she kept Ellie safe. But she couldn’t give Ellie anything, couldn’t even feed her right, couldn’t even keep her clean these past few weeks. Couldn’t buy her nice things. Couldn’t even send her to school. Whenever Mother beat Ellie, she was always too late to get to her, only getting there when Mother had already had a few swipes, and even then, all she could do was push Ellie into the closet or the toy chest, locking her in. Ellie would never have the life that little girl had, a stable life where she was loved and cared for.

When they went back into the van, Mother was furious that she was unable to get to you, to get money from you. She got drunk that night, parked at some local grocery store, and spilled everything to Nell. She had borrowed a lot of money from some dangerous people. And now they came to collect, and she didn’t have the money to pay them back, blaming Nell for everything, for not earning enough. For forcing her into a situation where she had to borrow money to survive. Ellie’s hungry sobs broke the small window of silence, and Mother stared at the toy chest, thinking for a while, telling Nell that there was one way she could make up for what she was lacking.

All their problems would be over if she unlocked that chest.

They could make a lot of money if they used Ellie.

Men would pay a lot of money for Ellie.

The two of them could be rich.

Nell trembled at those words. So, when Mother fell asleep, she broke the bottle Mother was drinking from and made sure Mother would never touch Ellie again.

Ever.

She dropped Ellie off at your place the next day and drove as far as she could. She disposed of Mother’s body, taking her heart as proof that she was gone, before making her way back to Austin and turning herself in.

She refused to tell anyone what she did with Mother’s body. The detective told you that they will compare the DNA sample from the heart with yours. If there was a match, that was enough to convict her, even if her very detailed confession and the blood in the van were not enough, which they were.

**********

“I know I deserve everything coming to me, Aria, I know that. But Ellie did nothing wrong. Please, Aria, take good care of her. Never tell her about me. I hope to God she doesn’t remember me, ever. This is the one good thing I can do for her. I know you don’t owe me anything. But please, Aria. Take care of her. I will do anything, sign anything, as long as you promise you will keep her safe, love her, protect her.”

You looked at this woman in front of you, shocked at how much sadder you were at her state of mind than you were at the fact that your mother was dead. In all your life, you had never once thought how fragile she was, how badly she was manipulated by your mother, thinking all this while that she was just some spoiled kid your mother preferred to you.

And as selfish of a mother you had always thought your mother was, you never thought she was just evil.

You didn’t know what to say to her. You stayed silent as Maria and some people from CPS and social services talked to her about Ellie, and before you knew it, she had willingly signed her rights to Ellie away to you, officially making you her guardian.

You remained quiet as Maria told her that she knew some people who would work pro bono to help her, maybe argue for a lighter sentence? No, Nell told her. She will take what was coming to her. She killed her mother willingly, no one told her to do it. She didn’t regret it one bit. Please, Aria, don’t come to the trial. Don’t let Ellie see. Keep her away. Please.

She did ask for one favour from Maria. To help get a divorce for her and Eric. He had been unfairly tied to her for too long. Maria promised she would help.

When the officers finally came in to take her away, you found yourself feeling things you never thought you would feel. You didn’t even know what to call the feeling. But your feet were suddenly drawn towards her, and despite the protests from the officers, for the first time since she came into your life, you hugged her. Tight.

She wept in your arms, pulling herself from you and following the officers out, stopping at the doorway, saying goodbye to you.

That was the last time you saw your sister.

**********

Joel drove you, his hand never leaving yours the whole silent journey home. You didn’t cry, you were just quiet. He didn’t ask you anything, he was just there for you. You remained quiet as you walked into your house, hugging Ethan and Kyle, thanking them for keeping an eye on Ellie. You slept in Ellie’s bed and remained quiet for the next few days, only speaking to Maria, Kyle, Ethan, and your dads on the phone. You didn’t want to see anyone.

He knew what happened, Maria told him. But you never told him anything.

You watched Sarah and Ellie play, watched movies with them, did everything they needed from you, but you didn’t speak to him. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t want to pry or force you into telling him anything you were not ready for. So he waited. And waited and waited some more.

One day you received a phone call and retreated into your room with Ellie, locking him out. Maria later told him that the DNA results were in. That heart did indeed belong to your mother. Give her some time, she told him. She just needed to process this. He nodded, leaving you alone, texting you night after night, telling you he was there for you if you needed him. He watched your window every night, waiting for you to call him, to talk to him, but you didn’t.

He was starting to worry, but everyone who knew you well kept telling him to give you some time. You will come around.

So he waited some more.

You didn’t know why, exactly, but you were feeling things you couldn’t identify. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to talk to him. You wanted to, wanted to tell him everything you were feeling. But you didn’t know what it was. You were so confused. There was a boulder in your heart, and you didn’t know why. Your mother was gone, Nell was gone. So why weren’t you happy? You should be, right?

After about two weeks of this, there was a knock on your door. Eric had come to visit. Tess told him about the whole thing, how you had withdrawn after.

The moment you saw him, you burst into tears. He pulled you in for a hug, and you wailed into his chest, holding onto him for dear life. Eric let you cling to him, stroking your hair, rubbing your back as you cried, kissing the top of your head as you cried. You finally eased, asking him to come in, and shut the front door behind you.

Joel watched as you did so, his heart beating so fast he thought it would break his ribs.

Shake it off, Joel. Eric had known you for a long time. He had been through a lot with you. Of course you trusted him more, felt more comfortable around him to open up to him. The two of you had only known each other a few months, a result of a one night stand, just two broken hearted people who met at the right place at the right time. You will open up to him one day. Right?

But Eric didn’t leave that night. His car remained in your driveway all night.

Shake it off, Joel. Maybe you will open up after tonight. You just needed time to vent to your old friend.

Correction.

Your old boyfriend. The first man you had ever fallen in love with. A man who was taken away from you in the cruellest, most unfair way possible. The man you didn’t get over for years.

And he was spending the night at your place.

Joel was getting ready for bed when he saw your bedroom light turn on, Eric sat on your bed, you closing the curtain. The light was turned off after a few minutes.

Joel couldn’t sleep that night. You wouldn’t do that to him, right? Maybe you slept with Ellie? The bed in the guest bedroom was too small for Eric. He was a tall man. Maybe he slept in your room for the bigger bed? He tried his hardest to shake the images of you and Eric in bed together out of his head, but to no avail.

It didn’t help that he saw the three of you leaving the house together the next morning, getting into Eric’s car, looking like the perfect family. Nor did it help that you came home late that night, Eric carrying a sleeping Ellie in his arms, and spent the night again.

No, Joel, shake it off. You had an explanation for everything, he was sure of it.

**********

You continued sobbing as Eric sat you down on your couch. It was as if the floodgates flew wide open, and you couldn’t do anything to stop it. Seeing him made you realize what you were feeling.

Grief. Anger. Confusion.

You were grieving your mother.

She’s gone.

As much as you hated her, you couldn’t help but feel it. The few times you felt as if she didn’t hate you, felt the things you yearned for from her – the love of a mother, as few as such instances may be. And to your horror, you missed them. You missed those few instances. Memories of the few times she stroked your hair as you slept came flooding back. That night she cooked dinner for you and Eric, smiling and joking, serving you your favourite dish, one you didn’t know she knew you liked.

Before she ripped all of it from under you.

Before you realized how much hatred she really had for you.

Before you realized how much she wanted to destroy your life.

And now, you were so confused. You didn’t understand why you were sad she was gone. She was an evil woman. You should be happy she’s gone. She will never bother you again.

But your mind and your heart were giving you conflicting justifications.

She was evil.

But she was still your mother. The very reason you were here.

She was so evil. She used Nell for money. She tried to… use Ellie for money.

But she was still your mother. She gave birth to you.

And you hated that while you hate her with everything you had, you still had an ounce of love for that woman.

Eric held you, telling you that what you were feeling was completely normal. She was your mother. Of course you loved her, even if you hated her. Feel it, Aria, feel it. Let yourself feel, you will be able to let it all go soon.

He himself was conflicted, he told you. He hated your mother, hated Nell for what they did. But there were times they were nice to him, Nell was always nice to him. Your mother made sure he had something to eat always, and Nell had always tried to get him to eat, but he was too paranoid to do so, worried your mother would drug him again. He felt bad now he knew what Nell went through, felt bad that he didn’t realize what was going on. He would’ve stopped it if he had known. A part of him told himself that he was too bogged down with his own issues to notice, and the other had to reassure himself that your mother made sure he didn’t. She was evil incarnate, and despite the few nice things she did for him, she was not a good person. Remember that, Aria.

He distracted you, watched movies with you and Ellie, cooked dinner for you, reminisced about your college days with you. You got to know him again. By the end of the night, you felt better. He stayed over, sleeping in your room instead of the guest bedroom – he was over six feet tall, he didn’t fit on the queen bed in that room. He asked if Joel didn’t mind you putting him up in your room, you told him you would explain everything to him.

The next morning, you showed him the small box Maria had brought you from the PD. The ashes from your mother’s heart. You wanted so badly to just flush it down the toilet, but you couldn’t do it. He suggested you dump it somewhere else, he could do it for you, just so that you wouldn’t feel the guilt. So he took you and Ellie out, you went to the zoo, Ellie excited to see the animals for the first time. He came back to you sans the box, telling you the deed was done. He wouldn’t tell you where he dumped the ashes exactly, but it was gone.

That was all you needed to know.

He left the morning after that, having spent the time with you to be your friend again. He got to know Ellie better and wanted to get to know her better. As bad as his memories with Nell were, she was never cruel to him, and Ellie did nothing wrong. He wanted to be there for Ellie, and you were more than willing to let him.

**********

Joel practically sprinted over to your house when he got your text. You were finally ready to talk to him. As soon as you opened the door, you hugged him so tightly he couldn’t breathe. You kept apologizing to him for icing him out, you will explain everything over some shit coffee, you told him, making him laugh. You thanked him for his patience, asking him if you could kiss him, you missed him so much. He willingly kissed you, backing you towards the kitchen counter, missing your lips so much he couldn’t think straight. He felt light, all the worries he’d been carrying around these past two weeks floated away. You were back. You were going to explain everything. Everything was going to be alright.

You stopped kissing him when the toaster spat the bread slices out, turning around to get them while he reached for a bag of the shit coffee. Everything just felt normal again.

The doorbell rang.

He kissed you one more time and told you he was going to get it. Ellie came down, asking him for a piggy back, and he happily obliged. He opened the door, a man he had never seen before standing outside, the biggest bouquet of flowers he’d ever seen in his arms, a huge suitcase by his feet. The man looked taken aback to see him.

“You must be Eric,” the man hesitantly said, offering a hand for Joel to shake.

“Who is it?” your voice came floating to the front door before Joel could answer.

“Aria,” the man called out when he saw you.

“Andrew.”

---

Part 13

[somnas-writes]

Ciel is the most unadoptable child but for some reason everyone he meets is like “yeah that’s my son now”

[chronicwhorebatman]

radical thought: batman knows shazam is a child but makes precisely zero effort to parent him

[luniviravosshipper]

I have no idea whether you’d consider Aaravos a maschosit or a sadist for this, I just think he really gets off of annoying people so much they end up absolutely losing their shit and snap at him.

Like, torturing people to the point they can’t resist the urge to try to literally kill him even knowing that it’s impossible.

Overall, he just really wants people to be angry at him. And, I don’t know, that’s just really amusing to me to have picked up on throughout the series.

[cicada-candy]

I get the sense that Nina is gonna haunt the next season.

[guinevereslancelot]

decided to leave my job and i'm gonna fr gonna cryyyyy

[hauntingblue]

BACK TO ONE PIECE LETSGOOOOO

[p2iimon]

drawing more furry fnaf art. yknow just to keep you posted. i love posting in the tags sorry these ones got away from me

[kavehayati]

I beg have we been playing the same game orrrr

[fatelcved]

i see or hear alternative/punk rock content and arata screams at the top of his lungs to let him out